


Still Ill

by TurnUps



Series: Hand in Glove - Drarry [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Draco Malfoy is a werewolf, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, F/M, M/M, Sequel, and you can't stop me, because that theory rules, but definitely a rewrite, half blood prince, i cant believe im writing a sequel, not a wishfulfillment rewrite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2019-07-17 21:56:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 92,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16104617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TurnUps/pseuds/TurnUps
Summary: Sequel to Hand in Glove - as Harry and Draco head into their sixth year, they have to face more than the fact they're both outed to the whole school and more than Draco's new condition.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> SO I thought I had a lot more momentum than I actually do for this fic. I was rereading Half Blood Prince and there's a lot that would change but also not a lot, so I might write in bits around chapters and have it a little more fractured than it was previously, but I don't know.  
> WHAT'S IMPORTANT is that I'm going to be updating bi-weekly on wednesdays, because I'm heading back to Uni, so I'll have a lot of coursework and a social life beyond work. I also want to do NaNoWriMo with Tapastic and finally pump out that original novel I keep talking about. With all this going on, there's no way I'd be able to write 5k a week for this, so it'll have to be every other week for a while.  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy! If you're new, I really recommend you read Hand in Glove first because there's a lot of set-up.

Harry stood in the driveway of number four Privet Drive with one hand on his suitcase and the other buried in the fur of the huge, black dog that sat next to him. He had begged his Godfather in the run up to the end of term that he needn’t have come with him. Sirius had relented, but shown up at Platform Nine and Three Quarters anyway, giving Harry no choice but to take him with him.

“We’re going in and out,” Harry said to Sirius. “No arguments.”

Dog-Sirius panted at him, looking for all the world like he was laughing.

Harry stepped forward and rung the doorbell. He shifted his weight on the doorstep as he heard one of the Dursley’s clattering down the stairs. Suddenly, there was a tight ball of nerves in his stomach, and he instinctively scratched the back of Sirius’ ears.

The door opened and a blotchy Uncle Vernon stared at him.

“Oh,” he grunted. “You’re back, are you?”

“Yeah,” Harry felt his nerves fail him. Sirius’ nose nudged his palm and he took a breath. “I’m just here to pick up my stuff.”

“Your stuff?” Uncle Vernon blinked at him.

How could Harry stand up to Lord Voldemort, the Dark Lord, but not his Uncle?

“I’m going to – I’ve decided to stay with my Godfather,” he hated how his voice wobbled – more like he was asking permission than telling Uncle Vernon.

His Uncle’s bushy eyebrows rose. He glared at Harry disapprovingly, which was quite standard for Uncle Vernon.

“Your Godfather…the murderer?”

Dog-Sirius growled and Harry curled his fingers into the hound’s shaggy mane.

“He was wrongfully accused,” he said. “It was actually my best friend’s pet rat, who had been disguised for twelve years. He made it look like Sirius killed him and Sirius only wanted to kill him because he was the one who sold out my parent’s location to Lord Voldemort, effectively signing their death warrant. Really he’s the reason I was left at your doorstep.”

"You're not funny, boy."

"For once, I'm not trying to be," Harry said. His voice sounded small and high and he hated it.

Uncle Vermon finished up his bout of glaring, then opened the front foor wider.

"I suopose you'd better come in. Not the dog. That mutt can stay out there."

Harry considered explain that that mutt was his Godfather, but then realised it would give Sirius an excuse to turn into a human. He wouldn't be able to deal with Sirius Black picking a fight with the Dursley's. Instead, he thought fast.

"Grimm, stay," he said, tugging his suitcase over the threshold. "I'll be out in a minute."

Dog-Sirius did not look impressed, but Harry had already slipped into the house, and Uncle Vernon couldn't bear a dog _seeing_ the inside of his sparkling clean house, so the door was closed the next moment.

Uncle Vernon was still staring at him suspiciously in the hall.

"I thought you _had_ to come back," he said, as though Harry was a cancerous growth.

"I do, technically," Harry said. His heart was thudding. Half an hour, just half an hour more, and he would be free. "But I've decided not to."

Aunt Petunia had poked her head out of the living room, staring at Harry with wide eyes.

"He has to - that's what that awful headmaster said."

A year ago, Harry would have yelled at them for calling Dumbledore awful. Now, he let it slide.

"Call it teenage rebellion," he said. He didn't want to get into how much it hurt to have Dumbledore ignore him for the whole year, allow Snape to open Harry's mind to Voldemort and then disprove of his boyfriend's mother helping him to close it up again.

Maybe it was because his boyfriend's mother was Narcissa Malfoy and her husband was a known Death Eater.

Maybe it was because his boyfriend was Draco Malfoy, who had been his bitterest rival for the last five years.

But Harry didn’t feel like explaining this to his Aunt and Uncle. He hadn’t _meant_ to come out to the whole school and their reaction had tainted the paradise that Hogwarts had always been. He didn’t want to get into that with the Dursley’s. He didn’t want to get into much of anything.

He just slipped up the stairs and into Dudley’s second bedroom. He still couldn’t think of it as his, because he knew it was never _meant_ to be his. This wasn’t Harry’s space. This was a borrowed space.

As Harry crammed the rest of his belongings – the few things he didn’t care to take to Hogwarts with him – into his battered suitcase, he realised he’d never had a room. There was nowhere he could call ‘Harry’s Room,’ with surety. His dormitory had always been shared, and his room at Grimmauld Place was still half packed away and covered in dust. When he thought of the bedrooms there, all he could remember where tears and grief and pain. Not exactly a home sweet home.

But Sirius would be there. And Draco. And he _had_ to be there for Draco now.

He could hear Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia talking about him downstairs. They weren’t making an effort to keep their grumbles of shock and disgust at Harry’s decision out of his earshot. He tried to ignore it. He had gotten pretty good at ignoring things. He doubted Hogwarts would ever take kindly to a Gryffindor and a Slytherin dating, especially when it was two boys.

Dudley was watching him from the doorway. He still looked faintly scared of Harry, which made him realise that the scariest thing that happened to Dudley last year was the dementor attack. He wished he could say the same.

“You’re leaving,” Dudley said.

“Very observant of you,” Harry said, pushing a final pair of socks in the suitcase. They were lumpy and mud coloured, but he supposed that Dobby, if no one else, would appreciate them.

Dudley paused, looking slightly sick.

"You saved my life."

"I did," Harry hoicked the suitcase from the bed and took a step towards the door. "It was nothing."

"But you saved my life," Dudley repeated. He was blocking the door.

"Day in the life," Harry replied and stepped forward again.

Dudley still didn't move. Harry forced himself to make eye contact.

There was a long moment. Obviously something was going on in Dudley's head, but Harry couldnt bring himself to figure it out. He felt himself beginning to tremble and hated himself for it.

Eventually, Dudley shuffled enough for Harry to get by.

"Now listen here, boy - you can't decide to just up and leave without discussing it with us first!" Uncle Vernon was at the bottom of the stairs.

"You've always wanted me gone," Harry said, frowning and confused and straining with the weight of his trunk. "So I'm going."

Uncle Vernon sputtered as Harry pushed past him, pushing the front door open. He was so close - so close to leaving - nothing was going to stop him now. Elation was drowning fear.

"Thank you for - thanks for making my life a misery but I guess saving my life for the last fifteen years," Harry said. He was standing on the doorstep. He was going to leave. He was finally going to leave the Dursley's. It made him throw caution to the wind. "I'm going to stay with my werewolf boyfriend now."

He let the door swing shut behind him and started down the path, dog-Sirius at his heels. His entire body felt as though it was trembling. He half expected the Dursley's to chase him down the road and drag him back by the scruff of his neck.

But he'd finally left.

Sirius panted as they walked down the road, looking for all the world like he was grinning at Harry. He mustered up a smile.

He paused. They had reached the playground on the corner and Harry had been hit with the memory of the first time he had met Sirius. When he had stumbled over and believed the dog was a death omen. He could almost laugh at himself as he summoned the Knight Bus, on purpose this time, and heading to Grimmauld Place.

He gave the name of a street a couple of rows down and they walked the rest of the way. Harry knew Sirius was dying to ask what had happened at Four Privet Drive and though he wasn't ready to tell him, the silence was just as uncomfortable.

There was a figure leaning against the doorway to 12 Grimmauld Place, blonde hair shining like a star.

Harry was caught between rolling his eyes and grinning from ear to ear, which, so far, had been most of his relationship with Draco Malfoy.

"You're not meant to be out here," Harry called as soon as they were within earshot.

"I didn't realise there was a full moon in the middle of the day," Draco replied in his usual drawl.

“It has nothing to do with the moon, Bellatrix-“

He was interrupted by Draco leaning forward and stealing a kiss from him.

Dog-Sirius trotted up the stairs, his tail slapping against the back of Harry’s legs like a pat on the back. It made the whole ‘kissing in front of your Godfather,’ thing more awkward.

But Draco seemed to thrive off of Harry’s embarrassment. He had a sparkle in his eye as he held the front door open for him. And though he still felt incredibly awkward, Harry couldn’t help but grin as he wheeled his suitcase into Grimmauld Place.

This was it. This was home.

*

The peace and quiet lasted for all of fifteen minutes before Harry and Draco heard the raised voices from downstairs. Evidently, Dumbledore had found out about Harry’s decision and evidently he didn’t like it.

“He thinks I’m a bad influence on you,” Draco said. They had been sat next to each other against the headboard, their legs tangled together, but now Draco slipped his arms around Harry’s waist, gently pulling him around until he could rest his chin on Harry’s shoulder.

“Bullshit. I’m a bad influence on you and you know it,” he replied, turning his head so that his lips grazed Draco’s cheek as he spoke.

“I’m the Death Eater, don’t forget.”

“I just – I don’t get him. I don’t get how having a Death Eater for a dad immediately means you don’t deserve his help.”

“You seem to forget how you hated me last year,” Draco said. His fingers clenched almost imperceptibly. “You thought I was too.”

Harry felt guilt and regret wiggling inside him like worms in a compost heap.

“That’s different,” he muttered. “I’m a stupid teenager.”

Draco laughed, but it felt too forced against the sound of Sirius’ angry bark.

“I was. I was basically a Death Eater,” Draco said. Harry went to move, to turn so that he could look him in the eye as he said it, but Draco squeezed his waist gently. It was a plead with him to stay still, so he did, staring at Draco’s pale clasped hands in front of him. “When I was growing up, I thought my father was right about everything. I was spoon-fed all of that blood elitist and Voldemort stuff and I liked it because it made me feel grown-up. My father had a way of talking to me about it that made me feel special to listen to it. When I look back, it’s pretty said. A preacher of some long-dead idea talking to his five-year old son about it because that’s the only person who will listen anymore.”

“But it’s not dead. Voldemort’s back.”

“Yeah, _now_. Harry,” his heart still jumped whenever Draco used his first name. “Eleven years ago, everyone thought Voldemort was dead. It would be like Merlin returning now. I remember I got some Hufflepuff a detention for saying Voldemort could never come back. I made out like they had punched me and Snape did the rest. It’s embarrassing, to think about how I was when I was twelve.”

“We’re all embarrassed about how we were when we were twelve.”

“Shut up. You saved the school twice before your thirteenth birthday,” Draco paused for a moment. “I hated you for that.”

“I hated you back.”

“Really? Even when we met in Madame Malkins? Before you knew about half-bloods and purebloods and Slytherins and Gryffindors?”

“There was something,” Harry murmured. He smiled, leaning back against Draco. “I could sense the entitlement coming off of you.”

Draco chuckled. His fingers had slipped under the hem of Harry’s shirt, feeling incredibly warm.

There was a crash from downstairs that wiped the smiles off of their faces.

“ _I’ve already lost him once and I’m not about to lose him again!”_

The words should have sent a thrill of warmth through Harry. He should be over the moon to hear those words. Maybe it was the situation and maybe it was because he wasn’t meant to hear them, but they didn’t have that effect. It felt wrong somehow, that someone would want to keep him around. That someone would defy Dumbledore to keep him around. No one should care about Harry that much.

“For God’s sake, Sirius – you have to understand the danger!” that was Shacklebolt.

“It’s bad enough to take Harry away from the only place where he’s safe from Voldemort, but to put him under the same roof as Malfoy’s wife? As _Bellatrix Lestrange’s_ sister?” Mad-Eye Moody.

“Blood means nothing. I’m a testament to that.”

“How do we know she’s not a spy? That she’s not reporting back everything to Bellatrix?”

“Draco.” It was Molly Weasley’s voice. A Molly Weasley who hadn’t quite regained her spark since her husband’s death. “Do you honestly think a mother would keep working for you-know-who after what she did to her son?”

Harry tightened his grip on Draco’s hands, but he had gone very still. He couldn’t even feel Draco’s breath against his neck.

“A rouse, to throw off suspicion from the both of them.”

“How can you be so _heartless_?!”

“I will leave.”

Narcissa’s voice rung calmly from downstairs.

Harry and Draco moved at once, scrambling off of the four poster bed and over to the peeling door. They leaned down over the bannisters, straining to catch Narcissa’s voice.

“If it makes you all feel more at ease, I will find somewhere else to go.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Cissy, you have to teach Harry occlumency.”

“Like hell she has to – how do we know she’s not preparing his mind on a platter for Voldemort?”

“Because Snape was already doing that.”

“If I wanted to turn the boy over to the Dark Lord, do you honestly think I would have waited this long? Mr Potter was coming over to my house for months. It would have been easy to hand him over to Lucius then.” There was a long silence. Harry imagined Narcissa examining everyone in the room carefully with those large, grey eyes of hers. “I will notify Sirius of my new lodgings.”

Draco grabbed a fistful of Harry’s t-shirt.

There was more movements, the sound of Sirius talking quickly to Narcissa as she headed into the hallway. Harry couldn’t make out the words over the sound of him and Draco clattering down the stairs. Each one seemed to creak, groan, or snap.

“Thank you for the offer, but I cannot accept. This family’s pride is it’s greatest weakness,” Narcissa was talking to Molly Weasley, and looked surprised when Molly gave her a brief, fierce goodbye hug.

“You can’t go,” Draco said, almost stumbling as he stepped forward. But that was probably just the amount of people crammed into the hallway.

“But I must, _mon tr_ _ésor_ ,” Narcissa gave him that sad smile. She cupped his cheek in her hand for a moment, her eyes shiny. “You will be perfect.”

Draco opened his mouth and closed it without saying anything. He covered Narcissa’s hand with his own and nodded instead.

It only occurred to Harry as Narcissa was stepping out of the front door that they had probably used Occlumency to speak to one another.

Silence at Narcissa Malfoy’s departure filled the hallway for a brief moment before Mad-Eye begun speaking again.

“And then there’s the matter of the boy-“

“Draco’s not leaving,” Sirius said quickly. “That would be ridiculous.”

“It would be vigilant. Lestrange already had a spy here. Anyone associated with her-“

“Stop it, Mad-Eye!”

It was Lupin’s voice, the only time Harry had ever heard him raise it. They watched as a tired Lupin pushed his way through the crowd.

“It would be foolishness to let this boy leave the house now, on this night,” Lupin continued, his pale face ablaze as he glared at Mad-Eye. “The two most qualified people to make sur ehe doesn’t hurt himself or anyone else are right here.”

For once, both of Mad-Eye’s eyes were focused on the same spot, staring at Lupin with something akin to disbelief.

But he relented, grumbling something about letting him stay only until the full moon was over that no one quite believed. Lupin had done it, though. He had crossed the order and gotten his own way. He had made it so that Draco Malfoy got to stay at twelve Grimmauld Place, which seemed the best thing in the world to Harry at that moment.

Of course, he had mixed feelings about it when the sun began to set. Not that he’d ever not want Draco with him, but there was something agonising about seeing Draco sat on the end of the sofa, his thin, pale fingers tapping against the arm of the sagging fabric, staring into space with an equally pale face. His answers became monotone and his voice distant.

Lupin had brought a T.V and had battled with it all afternoon until they had found a channel that played very crackly movies in black and white. The Wizard of Oz seemed a lost less magical when the Emerald City was the colour of ash.

Not that anyone was watching it. Sirius and Lupin were half-engrossed in a game of Wizard’s Chess that seemed to be a permanent stalemate and half watching the sun sinking in the sky.

“Professor Snape said you tried to kill him once on a full moon,” Draco said as Dorothy clicked her heels to go home. He sounded oddly meditative, but Draco always seemed a lot calmer than Harry about things.

“Snape exaggerates,” Sirius said. His flicked a pawn forward.

“It’s not that much of an exaggeration,” Lupin corrected. He leant back in his chair, tracing the cracks in the ceiling as he spoke. “Neither James or Sirius ever thought it would go that far. _I_ never thought that Severus would follow them anywhere. But they stopped. That’s the important part, isn’t it? That was the part that always separated Severus from James. James stopped. I think Severus would have let James or Sirius die.”

“I stopped too, don’t forget,” Sirius said. He leant over the chessboard, matching Lupin’s gaze as he looked down. There was a brief moment where Harry wasn’t sure what passed between them, before Lupin glanced away, his jaw working.

“He knows,” Harry wasn’t sure if Draco had actually heard any of that. He was still looking out the window at the pink and orange sky. “What I am. I was told he’d make me wolfsbane potion if I returned to my father.”

Lupin stared at Draco for a long time, even though Draco made no sign of moving.

“It’s your decision,” he said, finally, his voice soft.

“It’s like you said. I’m inhuman, but going back would be just as inhuman.”

Harry was quite sure Draco had forgotten he was here. Draco had never told him what Lupin had said to him when he had first arrived back at Grimmauld Place, covered in grim and blood. Harry had never pried.

He had felt useless all day, and now he felt even more so. He was starting to doubt if being ‘The Chosen One’ actually meant anything at all. Even the prophecy could have referred to Neville instead of him.

Sirius and Lupin stood as the credits on the T.V rolled to a close, as though that was a signal.

“I’ve spent the whole week reinforcing the basement and buying chew toys,” Sirius said. Harry couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not. “But I’ll be with you to make sure nothing goes wrong.”

“Sirius-“

“You’re getting old, Moony,” Sirius flashed a grin. He was starting to look less like a skull and more like the handsome teenager he had once been. “I can take you.”

“There’s two of us.”

“You think a kid’s going to get the best of me,” Sirius smirked at Draco.

For a moment, Harry thought Draco wasn’t paying attention, then his eyes slid over to Sirius lazily. He paused, then said, with no emotion.

“Uncle Sirius.”

It was enough to make Sirius blanch.

“We should get going,” he squeaked, opening the door with a creak.

Draco smirked, though he still looked sickly, and stood. He paused in front of Harry, leaning over to press their foreheads together, so that all Harry could see was a blur of grey.

“Don’t try and see, okay?” he murmured. “I want to stay perfect in your eyes.”

Under normal circumstances, Harry would have responded with something witty, probably ‘fuck off, Malfoy,’ but Sirius and Lupin were still in the room and he felt awkward swearing in front of them.

He choice the less awkward option. He kissed Draco and tried to give him a reassuring smile.

Then he listened to them head downstairs and fell onto his side on the sofa. The Railway Children came on, the audio crackling. Harry tried to focus on that instead of the howls and barks and growls he heard from the basement. He didn’t know the rules on whether the neighbours could hear what was happening inside the house, given they couldn’t see it most of the time.

He also hoped Kreacher wouldn’t be able to hear it. He had been forbidden to give Bellatrix Lestrange any information, but Harry knew he was desperate to find any loophole in Sirius’ instructions.

He sloped upstairs and watched Hedwig instead, though the stairs didn’t entirely hide the wolf howls.

There was a small pile of letters already – Hermione checking everything was fine. She was going to stay with Ron for the summer and told him she would visit if she either wasn’t needed or she was stepping on their toes. Harry found it hard to imagine the Burrow without Arthur Weasley.

Fred and George had moved back in, apparently. Mrs Weasley was still far from thrilled about their dropping out of Hogwarts, but their joke shop was successful. She was turning slowly around to the idea, even if she yelled at them for trying to sneak money into her purse.

Percy was still working for the Ministry of Magic. He had sent a small card of condolence.

Ron repeated the news, and remarked that Theodore Nott had also sent his condolences – about his father and about scurrying away from them the moment Harry and Draco were outed to the school. Ron felt this meant nothing, that actions spoke louder than words, but that was one of the best things about Ron. He defended Harry so fiercely no matter what, and Harry just couldn’t understand why.

The third letter was from Luna Lovegood, containing scraps of poems and notes to Ginny. She asked Harry’s opinion of them, and whether she should say them to Ginny in person, in a letter, or deliver them by thestral. Harry reminded her that it would be Ginny’s first time actually seeing a thestral, and it was probably not best to remind your crush of their father’s death whilst trying to declare your feelings. He knew that Luna felt terrible about hesitating when Ginny kissed her in the Department of Mysteries, but he also knew that Ginny had bigger things on her mind than her love life.

 But this was all things that he knew and he didn’t put a lot of thought into the replies.

There was still howling coming from downstairs, and then a horrible yelp. Harry cringed over his ink, gritting his teeth. He didn’t want to see. He didn’t want to hear. But he also couldn’t stand to not see, to not know who had yelped.

He shouldn’t complain. He had no grounds to complain about this. If anyone should be complaining, or if anyone should be upset, it should be Draco. He was the one who had to live with it – to go through it.

Harry just felt helpless about it all. It was just another thing he couldn’t do anything to help with. He couldn’t save Cedric or Arthur Weasley. He couldn’t choose where he wanted to live. He couldn’t help his boyfriend go through lycanthropy.

He couldn’t do _anything_. 


	2. 2

“I’m supposed to be the one staying up all night, not you.”

Draco tugged Harry’s wrist away from his face, one eyebrow raised like a parent scolding a child. It was noon the next day, when they had finally emerged from their respective dens, both with sizeable bags under their eyes.

“How am I supposed to sleep whilst you’re howling all night?” Harry replied, pushing the cloth back against Draco’s forehead. Someone’s claws had left a mark. Draco was covered in little, or not so little, marks like a child’s scribbles. The red stood out alarmingly against his skin.

Draco gave half a laugh and let Harry keep dabbing at him. He was reminded of last year, when Draco had grabbed Harry’s hand and forced it into a bowl of Murtlap Juice. Neither of them would have guessed they would have ended up here, with Harry using the same stuff on Draco.

He wasn’t allowed to see the bite though. It was bandaged up, even though it had healed over a long time ago. Harry didn’t push it.

“Are Sirius and Lupin still asleep?” he asked, and received a murmur in response.

“Pretty sure they curled up together whilst they were a wolf and a dog.”

“They used to be,” Harry paused, trying to find the right phrase. “Like us.”

“You’re kidding,” Draco rolled his eyes, pressing Harry’s hand against a long scratch on his neck instead. “Did you figure that out all by yourself, Potter?”

“Sirius told me.”

“You are the most unobservant person on the entire planet. The Dark Lord could walk up to you in a fake mustache and you’d trust him.”

“Shut up, Malfoy.”

“Make me.”

Draco tilted his head towards Harry as he said it, his eyes gleaming and a smirk on his face.

Harry wanted to fake him out. To lean in and then cover Draco’s mouth with his hand, or push him over or _something_.

But he also wanted to kiss Draco Malfoy, and that was the want that won over. His grip on the towel slipped as he buried his fingers in Draco’s white-blonde hair. He wondered if he was the same colour when he was a werewolf. He wondered if it was appropriate to wonder about his boyfriend’s werewolf appearance whilst making out with him.

Then Draco’s hand wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer and onto his lap, and Harry decided that it really didn’t matter if Draco was an albino werewolf. It really didn’t matter at all.

*

Draco ended up staying past the full moon, because he was Draco Malfoy and he always got his own way. He, Lupin and Sirius were laced in scratches, and Harry had to notice that Lupin’s seemed much deeper than Draco’s. They didn’t talk about what happened in the basement and Harry couldn’t figure out if that was better or worse.

They became like a strange family. It was quiet at Grimmauld Place. Most of the members of the Order were avoiding it. Hagrid came round often, sporting various bruises from Grawp. He and Sirius decided it was best for Buckbeak to return to Hogwarts. Draco was more than happy to see the back of him, since every time he had gone near Buckbeak, he had been snapped at. Apparently, Hippogriff’s hold a grudge.

Sirius, however, had been gritting his teeth so hard Harry had wondered if he had ground them into his gums. He was sad to see Buckbeak leave too. After the first night of howling and fighting, he had taken refuge in the attic with him, curling up in the next of feathers and hay and talking to Buckbeak. Mainly nonsense, but it helped to keep his mind off of things.

Tonks, now that Narcissa was gone, was also around a lot. Harry thought it was less about Narcissa’s connections and more a want of avoiding an awkward family reunion. She seemed to be the most interested in talking to Lupin, scowling occasionally at Draco for scratching him. Her hair was mousy now and that seemed to take most of the vibrancy out of her.

Sirius and Lupin were starting to morph back into teenagers, banter flying back and forth between them easily. There were still moments where Sirius would nudge Lupin with his hip, or put a hand on his shoulder and the spell would break. There would be that awkward pause that Harry had seen through the mirror.

But Harry was finding himself enjoying the Summer. The house was becoming less gloomy and dusty, mostly at Draco’s insistence. Most of the rooms, at least most of the ones they used, were polished up, resurrected from the ghosts of themselves. It felt like a home, even if the door creaked, the handles were mismatched, and they sometimes heard mysterious footsteps from upstairs.

At least, until Dumbledore appeared on the doorstep and smiled at him benignly.

“Harry, I see you ignored my advice,” he said, stooping to enter the door.

“I’m sorry, Professor,” Harry said. He felt like a scolded child, for a moment completely prepared to go back to the Dursley’s if it meant that Dumbledore wouldn’t be mad at him. “I just – couldn’t stay there.”

“Sometimes, Harry, we must do unpleasant things for the greater good.”

Harry fought the urge to sigh, roll his eyes and shrug his shoulders. At the end of the day, Professor Dumbledore was still his headmaster, and still considered the best wizard of their time. Despite his feelings about being ignored for a whole year, being dropped on the doorstep of the Dursley’s for a paper thin reason and his lack of support for anyone who wasn’t Harry, he still greatly admired him. He had idolised him so much – had begun to think of him as family and that love wasn’t hard for him to forget. He _wanted_ to forgive Dumbledore. He _wanted_ to like Dumbledore.

He wanted everything to be simple and clean cut, like it was in his first year. Now everything had merged and muddled together and he couldn’t figure anything out.

So, he just nodded and invited Dumbledore in for tea.

Thankfully, Draco was upstairs. He napped like a cat in the afternoon.

Sirius, however, was stirring a coffee with the appearance of mud. He looked darkly at Dumbledore, but didn’t say anything. He stayed silent whilst Dumbledore explained to Harry that he needed his help with something – as always, the details were kept a secret. And he _stayed_ silent when Dumbledore added that he was going to privately tutor Harry over the next year.

“In what?” Harry had interrupted Dumbledore mid-flow and now he swallowed underneath that cold, blue stare. He always lost that nerve, that hatred, when he was face to face with Dumbledore. “Can’t – can’t Mrs Malfoy keep tutoring me in Occlumency?”

“It will not _be_ Occlumency, Harry,” Dumbledore remained calm. He had not touched his tea.

“But surely I have to keep it up – I mean, last year, it was because of – it was because I wasn’t good enough at it that we ended up at the Department of Mysteries. Voldemort’s still in my head, right?”

“There are more pressing matters we must deal with concerning Voldemort.”

Maybe for you, Harry thought, but didn’t have the courage to say.

So, once again, he just nodded, and dismissed it. He would find a way to keep practising, even if it was only with Draco. _He_ was the one who had to deal with Voldemort messing around with his thoughts, after all.

Sometimes, he really hated being ‘The Chosen One.’

Especially because the ‘task’ he had to assist with was recruiting Professor Slughorn onto the Hogwarts staff. Harry didn’t warm to him, especially not with the news from Dumbledore that Slughorn would try to ‘collect’ him and that Harry should let it happen. It was like he didn’t know Harry at all. How could he smile warmly at the man who talked about his mother like she was a broken vase in his collection? Something that he used to own that was now ruined. As though it was her fault that she died and tarnished his group of wonderful previous students.

He wondered if Slughorn would still want to collect him if he knew Harry was gay. He had actively been trying not to think about what his next year at Hogwarts would be like now that he was well and truly out of the closet. The Slytherins would be more insufferable, and the Gryffindors weren’t much better. The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuff’s mostly left him alone anyway, but there were a few that glared at him as he passed.

Dumbledore hadn’t mentioned anything about Harry and Draco. Maybe it wasn’t his place, but Harry felt that the knowledge weighed heavily between the two of them.

“No offence, Potter, but I’d rather you didn’t talk about your relationship with a two-hundred year old creep,” Draco said when he arrived home. They were stretched either side of the unlit fireplace, and Harry was poking at the curling newspapers inside it with the poker.

“He’s not a creep,” Harry said, mainly out of habit. “I just – I thought he’d at least ask how you are.”

Draco snorted.

“He cares about me?” he asked, curling his fingers into the furry rug. Lupin had brought it home one day, and despite everyone called it a skinned sheep, it had stayed. Draco was silent for a moment, before he continued. “Do you think Slughorn would try to collect me?”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Harry asked. He rubbed the tip of the poker with is fingers, watching the soot stain his skin. “You’re the perfect student, aren’t you?”

“My father’s in prison and my mother’s on the run. Not to mention, I’m a werewolf. _And_ gay.”

“Like I said, perfect.”

“Fuck off.”

Harry grinned. Draco’s cuts had healed now, there wasn’t a trace of them left. If anything, he looked more flawless now than ever. As like a Veela as his mother was.

It was completely unfair.

Hermione, Ron and Ginny stayed for the second half of the Summer Holidays, much to the disproval of the Order. Harry believed he heard Mad-Eye shout that it was “top secret headquarters, not a youth hostel!” to which Sirius had pointed out that none of the Order wanted to meet there anymore, anyway, so it didn’t really matter how many teenagers were there.

“I know you guys wanted me to stay at the Burrow,” Harry said, leaning on Ginny’s suitcase as he watched them struggle to put Hermione’s sheets on the bed. He didn’t finish the sentence. That would mean admitting that he couldn’t face it. Apparently, Mr Weasley’s death wasn’t his fault, but he couldn’t quite believe that.

“Honestly, you dodged a bullet,” Ginny said. She appeared, hair tousled, from under the duvet. “Bill and Phlegm make me want to puke.”

“Phlegm?”

“She means Fleur,” at Harry’s baffled expression, Hermione rolled her eyes and used her ‘I’m explaining something very basic to you’ tone. “Fleur Delacore? From the Tri-wizard tournament? And it’s a _mean_ nickname,” Harry heard her add, under her breath. “Though, apt.”

“What’s Fleur Delacore doing at the Burrow?”

“She’s engaged to Bill, isn’t she?” Ron said with a shrug. He had sat on the desk chair, idly kicking at a lump in the carpet.

“Right – when did this happen?”

“She came back over to practice her ‘engleesh,’” Ginny pulled a face. “We never saw it coming. She’s just – nothing like Bill. I don’t how he can stand to be around her. Sure, she’s gorgeous to look at. I can’t stop _staring_ at her. But the moment she opens her mouth-“ another face.

“It’s been a trying Summer,” Ron admitted to Harry with a private tone of voice. “Between Dad and this…” he trailed off. “I think it’s only been Hermione who’s been keeping us all sane.”

“Don’t be silly, I’ve hardly done anything,” she said, but her face went pink all the same.

“Still,” Ron said. “Isn’t here meant to be chaos? Tonks keeps popping in looking like, well, anyone but Tonks. Didn’t realise she could be sad.”

“She is _human_ , Ron.”

“Yeah, but there’s being sad, and then there’s having brown hair.”

“I have brown hair.”

“And you’re always sad or angry.”

“Here’s fine,” Harry said loudly to split up the argument. “It’s been -  great, actually. I’ve been a lot happier here than I would have been at the Dursley’s.”

“You know we would have come to get you in the second week, right?”

“Yeah. And I bet Dumbledore wouldn’t have had a problem with that,” Harry bit his lip, then forced himself to continue. He didn’t want to ruin Dumbledore for his friends, but he couldn’t wrestle with his doubt alone any longer. “That’s what I don’t get – when I says I need to return every year – I’ve not spent a whole Summer there since before I came to Hogwarts. Second year you got me, then I stayed in Diagon Alley and last year I was with you again.”

“Well, I suppose you are a lot safer around wizards,” Hermione sat on the half-made bed, frowning at her shiny shoes. “And – all those years Voldemort-” Ron and Ginny shrunk away from her at the mention of his name. “-hadn’t really come back, had he?”

“The only time I’ve _really_ been in danger was at the Dursley’s. The dementors last year, remember? And Voldemort _was_ back then.”

“In hiding.”

“And when I first saw Sirius and thought he was the Grimm – that was at the Dursley’s too.”

No one answered. Everyone picked a different spot in the room to frown at. Harry just couldn’t understand it, it was like Dumbledore didn’t _want_ him to spend time with Sirius, but that was crazy. Sirius was his family. Why wouldn’t Dumbledore want him to live with his family?

There was a sudden bark of laughter in the silence and the four of them jumped out of their skin.

Sirius was in the doorway.

“You thought I was the Grimm?” he asked between chortles. Harry could almost see tears of laughter forming in his Godfather’s eyes. He wanted to just be relieved that Sirius was finally, genuinely laughing, but instead he felt his face flare up in embarrassment.

“What was a supposed to think? Big dog lurching at me from the darkness and then Trelawny going on and on about how I was going to die?”

“I’m not a lurcher, Harry, I’m a deerhound.”

Harry rolled his eyes. He hadn’t realised that even Goddads make dad jokes, but a moment later Sirius’ face became dark.

“I’d say Dumbledore wants you to have nothing to do with me because I’m basically a Slytherin. Everyone in my family was. I’m pretty sure the only reason I wasn’t was because I wanted Gryffindor."

“Well, I’m only in Gryffindor because I asked the sorting hat to put me there, so I’m really a Slytherin too,” Harry said.

Sirius smiled at him. The kind of smile that made his eyes crinkle and the lines around his mouth appear less gaunt and more kindly. It was the kind of smile that made Harry’s heart swell with pride, as though he was the only person in the room.

“I don’t think Professor Dumbledore would care what house you’re in,” Hermione said. “He’s the headmaster, for goodness sake.”

“Yes, you’d think he’d be impartial, wouldn’t you?” Sirius leant on the doorframe. “But it’s not like Dumbledore makes an effort to stop prejudice Slytherins from following in their parents footsteps, is it?”

Hermione scowled at him.

“Put it this way. I’m not broken.”

“Broken?” Harry echoed. He hated that it seemed a perfect fit in his mouth.

“Look at who Dumbledore surrounds himself with – they’re all social outcasts. Hagrid’s a half giant, Snivellus is, well, Snivellus, Mad-Eye’s off his rocker, you guys are considered blood traitors – no offence.”

“Well _you’ve_ been wrongfully accused of murder – doesn’t that make _you_ a social outcast?”

“Ah, yes – but I’m different. I don’t want Dumbledore’s supposed ‘help.’ I’m not going to let myself be collected.” Collected. The word was awfully similar to how Dumbledore described Sluhghorn’s habits. He shuddered involuntarily. “Dumbledore gets all these people in his pockets so they remain loyal to him.”

“What do I have to do with it?” Harry asked, though he dreaded the answer.

“Harry, if you were raised with me – provided that whole mess with Wormtail hadn’t happened – you would be perfectly happy,” the phrase left a strong, empty feeling in Harry’s heart. “You would have gone to Hogwarts in your first year as happy as anyone else. Maybe you would wonder why you had a Moony and a Padfoot instead of a mum and a dad, but that’s not the end of the world. Fuck, you’d probably be just as happy if it was just Lupin who raised you. Or McGonagall. Instead, you came to Hogwarts,” Sirius’ frank tone of voice stopped. He left the word out. Harry didn’t want to fill in the gap himself. “And Dumbledore was your saviour. Now he can emotionally blackmail the Chosen One.”

Silence fell again. Hermione glared at Sirius, every ounce of her body saying ‘shut up,’ apart from her mouth. Ginny looked ready to hex him and Ron was staring at him, slightly open-mouthed, as though in awe.

Sirius’ dark eyes met Harry’s. He couldn’t hold the gaze.

He wasn’t wrong. Harry couldn’t disagree.

But he couldn’t agree either.

*

“So you’re still lurking about, Malfoy?”

Malfoy had been curled up in the armchair when they had all finally stomped down the stairs, none of them mentioning what Sirius had said.

“Never change, Weasley. That would make life too exciting, wouldn’t it?” Draco didn’t even look up from his book.

Harry sighed. It was like watching a dog barking at a cat up a tree. In the few weeks after the aftermath of the Department of Mysteries, he had thought Draco and Ron were starting to get on, but it seemed the absence made the heart grow colder.

“That’s ‘Advanced Potion Making,’ isn’t it?” Hermione, as always, was more interested in literature than humans. “You’re taking potions through to your NEWTs, then?”

“Don’t tell me you are too. I don’t think I could stand another year with _you_ in my class.”

“Afraid you’ll have to answer a question, Malfoy?”

Draco smirked. His eyes twinkled and Harry’s stomach swooped. He wondered if it was jealousy.

“That was actually a half-way decent comeback, Granger. Maybe next year _will_ be fun, after all.”

“Well I doubt I’ll even pass potions,” Harry muttered, sitting on the arm of the chair and using Draco’s shoulder to balance himself. Draco’s hand found his thigh and he suddenly found it very hard to meet anyone’s eye.

“But how else will I drive Weasley insane all year.”

“Shove off,” Ron flopped onto the sofa, though Harry noticed he courteously moved his feet so Hermione could sit down too.

“You’re just jealous.”

“I’m surprised Sirius and Lupin haven’t killed you yet,” Ron said. “It would be so easy to make it look like an accident.”

Hermione and Ginny gave him a warning look, and Harry wondered if they were psychically linked today.

“They love me,” Draco’s hand squeezed Harry’s thigh and he bite his tongue so that he didn’t squeak embarrassingly.  “They think I’m the perfect gentleman for their little Potter.”

“Sure you’re a gentleman when you’re a bloodthirsty wolf?”

“ _Ron_!” Hermione actually hit his shoulder, Ginny, still by the door gasped, and Harry went very still. Draco’s grip on him was too tight for comfort and he had gone pale, staring at Ron with cold eyes.

He let the silence stretch on.

“I could make any number of comments about your father right now, Weasley,” Draco said, very quietly. “But I won’t, because I have a little respect. That’s the last werewolf joke you’re aloud to make, or you’ll be at the bottom of the Black Lake.”

The tension crackled so strongly that Harry could feel the electric in the air.

Then Ron leaned forwards, rubbing his face with his hands.

“I’m not good at this, okay? I’ve never been good with the emotions thing, alright? And I know – I know you had nothing to do with Dad, but I – a little part of me want to blame you, okay? And being angry is a lot better than being sad right now because I’m _sick_ of being sad. At least when I’m angry I _feel_ something, you know? Because otherwise I think I’m going to go insane, okay?”

Again the silence stretched on. Harry felt the urge to go over and give Ron a hug, but they didn’t really do that sort of thing.

“Are you looking for sympathy?” Draco asked, in that quiet but deadly tone.

“You’re an arse.”

“Basically.”

The tension fizzled away like a sparkler. Hermione quickly started up a conversation about classes for next year, and Harry was able to fill them all in on Slughorn. It was going to be another conversation that was never talked about.

Not this time. This was a lot more important to Harry than Dumbledore. This was his best friend and he had to make sure he was okay.

The only problem was they didn’t really talk about that sort of thing. Not that he really talked to Hermione about it either – she could be just as awkward to open up to.

So he ended up toeing open Ron’s door very slowly after they had all gone to bed. It creaked alarmingly and Harry winced. If Ron hadn’t been awake before, he was now.

He nudged his head around the door –

And got hit in the face with a pillow.

“Oh – sorry, Harry,” Ron said. “I – I thought you were a ghost or something.”

“And a pillow would have stopped a ghost – how?” Harry asked, squeezing the rest of himself through the door.

“I dunno.”

“I just wanted to see if you were okay.”

“What?”

“You know, earlier, I just – are you doing okay?”

Ron blinked. He shuffled out of the duvet so that he was sat on the edge of the be, one sock hitched halfway up his leg and the other in a ball around his ankle.

“I guess so.”

Harry nodded awkwardly. He almost ducked back out of the room. Instead, he forced himself to walk over and perch on the end of the bed.

“It’s why you didn’t come this year, isn’t it?” Ron asked. He wasn’t looking at Harry.

“Yeah.”

“I wish you had. It just, would’ve made everything seem normal again. It’s like there’s this big, gaping hole that no one wants to acknowledge anymore. Like, because it’s been a few months, we should just move on with our lives. I don’t know how to do that.”

“I wish I could tell you.”

“Do you think it’ll ever stop hurting?”

“I don’t know, Ron.”

They both sighed.

“Has it really been alright, here? I mean, no offence, but there’s the Weasley sibling bet going on how long it would take for you and Malfoy to murder each other.”

“I never wanted to actually hurt Malfoy,” Harry said. “We always just exchanged witty insults.”

“Didn’t he try to get you expelled in first year?”

“Well, yeah, but let’s face it – if anyone was going to get me expelled in first year it would have been myself. I did any number of things worse than a wizard’s duel.”

“I’m pretty sure Bill was a champion dueller at Hogwarts…and _he_ was a _prefect_ ,” Ron said. He kicked his feet against the worn carpet. “But _he_ wasn’t a werewolf. For once, I’m not being snarky, Harry. You’ve been living with two werewolves.”

“We don’t really talk about it,” Harry said. “What happens in the basement stays in the basement. It’s not my place to ask about it, and I don’t think any of them would tell me. Why should they?”

“Because you live here too?”

Harry shrugged. Maybe.

They sat in silence. Harry thought about what it used to be like to share a room with Ron. That first Summer, they stayed up late most nights, chatting or playing guessing games with one another. They would sneak downstairs to make hot chocolate only to find Fred and George doing the same. Fred and George would sit them down on the sofas, and Harry had been so small he had almost been swallowed by it, as they were treated to a highlight reel of their funniest exploits at Hogwarts. The whole charade was done in whispers, which made it all the harder to keep quiet.

He missed that. He missed when Hogwarts was magical and the near death experiences just added to that wonder. He missed enjoying everything but potions.

He missed being a kid.

He didn’t know if he was a teenager now, or an adult, or if the two just blending into one, but he didn’t like it. It was all too much stress and danger and responsibility.

Harry nudged Ron with his foot and couldn’t help but smile a little in the darkness.

“Want to make hot chocolate, or something?”

*

Their OWL results came a few days later and Harry was surprised at how well he had actually done. Not as well as Draco or Hermione of course, but he had a respectable collection of grades. He had also somehow become Gryffindor Quidditch Captain.

This, of course, sent Sirius on a rave about how much like James Harry was, and how proud he was making him. Harry had ducked his head, partly wanting the ground to swallow him up whole, and half being swallowed by his own pride at making Sirius so happy.

Draco, of course, found this all amusing.

“Shouldn’t you be Captain too?” Harry asked under his breath, as Sirius bellowed the news up to Lupin, who was three floors above them. “I mean, you’ve been playing for almost as long and you’re – well, decent.”

He may have loved Draco Malfoy, but there was no way he’d ever admit that Draco was a good seeker.

Draco smiled tightly at him.

“I guess McGonagall likes you more than Snape likes me,” he said

“That’s ridiculous – Snape loves you,” Ron said. “Anyone could see that you should be Captain.”

It was a small olive branch for the werewolf comment.

“He’s a prefect, you idiots,” Hermione finally looked up from her results. “You can’t be both.”

“Were you just trying to make me feel sorry for you?” Harry demanded, and was rewarded with a trademark smirk and a kiss.

“I can’t help that you insist on picking a fight with someone at every inconvenience.”

Harry opened his mouth to say he absolutely didn’t do that, but then he realised that he did, and buried his mouth in Draco’s hair instead.

Their book list had come through as well, so Lupin ended up talking the five of them and ‘Grimm’, their ‘dog’ to Diagon Alley. Harry felt oddly jumpy, as though he was scared to bump into anyone else from Hogwarts. He wasn’t _scared_. Harry Potter didn’t get scared.

But maybe he was a little concerned.

Mainly that if any Slytherin said anything that his new dog would attack without notice.

Luna was just as jumpy. She even pushed Harry around the corner of Florish and Botts at one point, hiding her face behind her bright red hair.

“Luna’s over there,” she hissed.

Harry blinked. It took a moment for him to remember why Ginny couldn’t see Luna.

 “She’s been telling me all Summer that she’s sorry about what happened,” he left out the part about the poems. Some of them were very Luna-esque and he didn’t know how Ginny would take them. “Maybe you should talk to her.”

“I can’t _talk_ to her? What would I even say?”

“Ask her how her Summer was.”

“And then she’ll ask me how my Summer was and I’ll have to say it sucked because of Dad and it sucked because of phlegm and it sucked because I can’t stop thinking about her and how much she doesn’t even like me.”

Ginny had impressive lung power. She didn’t even seem out of breath after her tirade.

“I think she does like you,” Harry said. He wondered when he had suddenly been the one to give sage relationship advice.

“That’s even worse. Then I’ll have to come out to people. I can’t do that.”

“Ginny, I’m not seeing a clear answer here.”

“That’s because there isn’t one!”

Harry rubbed his scar with the heel of his hand. It didn’t hurt, but it seemed to be a habit now, when he was confused or stressed. He didn’t understand girls and relationships. He barely understood boys and relationships.

He was saved, thankfully, by Draco and Hermione darting so fast around the corner that they almost crashed into them.

“Potter, you’ll never guess what,” Draco’s pale face was flushed, his eyes wide. “We were in Nocturne alley-“

“What were you doing in Nocturne Alley?” Harry asked.

“Wolfsbane potion,” Draco said.

“I went with him to make sure he was telling the truth,” Hermione said. “There’s actually a lot of very interesting stuff down there, Harry. I mean, I know it’s all dark magic, but some of it seems genuinely beneficial.”

“She almost got herself lynched three times. I told her to be careful, because if anyone knew she was a mud – a, you know, they’d get angry, but she didn’t listen,” Draco said. They were almost talking over each other. “Anyway, we saw Theo,” at Harry’s blank expression, he rolled his eyes. “Theodore Nott. He was having an argument.”

“We can only assume it was his father he was talking to,” Hermione picked up the story. “We used one of those Extendable Ears from Fred and George’s shop and it sounded like he was threatening him. Like there was a task he had to do. Nott was having none of it.”

“He used imperio, Potter.”

Harry felt a chill run through him.

“What did he want him to do?” he asked, his throat suddenly dry.

“We didn’t hear that part, but it couldn’t have been good, could it?”

Harry had really hoped he wouldn’t have to think about this stuff until he was back at Hogwarts, at least. Maybe until Christmas if he was really lucky.

Three pairs of eyes were on him. Waiting to see what he would do. It was like being in the DA all over again. Only, if he messed up now, it wouldn’t be someone not learning to cast Expecto Patronum.

It would be life and death.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MY WEBCOMIC IS NOW ON WEBTOONS: https://www.webtoons.com/en/challenge/in-his-shadow/list?title_no=226226 AND IT UPDATES TODAY! 12PST!
> 
> (A/N): Honestly I'm feeling a lot of pressure with this and found this hard to get out. Things have not been going well for me these last two weeks. I think I'm starting to figure out how to go about the next couple of chapters, but they're also probably going to be in November. I'm challenging myself to do NaNoWriMo in November on top of a new job and all my assignments and assigned reading (and my webcomic). I'm actually finding it a bit much already, so fair warning that this will be the first thing I drop if I can't handle everything. I'll let you all know via my activity if I can't get an update out or something.
> 
> In the meantime, I hope you enjoyed it.


	3. 3

3

The closer it got to term, the more nervous Harry got. It started as a twist of his stomach that he could just ignore, but by the day before they were due to go back to Hogwarts, he felt a mess of nerves. That twist kept twisting back on itself and he couldn’t sit still.

“Did anyone know?” he asked Sirius as he helped dry the dishes. “About you and…”

“No,” Sirius said, almost immediately. “Well, James and Lily. If anyone else did, they didn’t matter.”

Harry noticed Peter Pettigrew wasn’t included in the list. He also noticed that there was an ‘anyone else,’ which could mean one person for ten more.

“Are you having a tough time with it, Harry?”

He sighed over his tea-towel.

“This has happened before, at Hogwarts,” he said. “In my second year, everybody thought I was the heir of Slytherin – don’t ask – and then there was that whole issue with the TriWizard Tournament. I thought I was used to it – the jabs and the glares and all that. But I don’t think I am. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to live another year like that.”

Sirius was still for a long moment.

“Do you want me to come?” he said in a quiet voice.

Yes.

“No – no, it’s okay,” Harry said. He couldn’t ask that. That would be asking way too much – it was way too much effort to be wasted on him. “I’ll manage.”

Sirius did not look convinced, so Harry pretended he could hear Draco calling him and ducked out of the kitchen, feeling guilty that he didn’t finish cleaning up.

Draco was sat upstairs, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared at the suitcases as the bottom of the bed. He used to think Draco was calm all the time, but now he knew the little signs that showed when he was nervous.

“Stressed?” he asked.

“You’re not?”

“I’m never stressed,” Harry sat on the end of the bed.

Draco kicked him playfully. “Bullshit.” He paused, running his fingers through his fringe. “I don’t know what I’m going to do – about-“

The word still wasn’t allowed to be spoken.

Harry pulled his legs up and crossed them on the bed, thinking hard.

“My dad and Sirius became animagi,” he said slowly. He was trying the idea on for size.

“That was stupid.”

“You think?”

“It’s illegal.”

Harry smiled and shrugged. ‘Legal’ didn’t seem to apply to him anymore.

“You’re not doing anything illegal because of me,” Draco shifted, pressing his forehead against Harry’s. “I’m serious, Potter.”

“No, Sirius is my godfather.”

“That was _awful_ ,” Draco said, and silenced Harry’s chuckle by kissing him. It happened easily now, kissing. Draco’s lips were warm and familiar and the inside of his mouth even more so. A strange pang went through Harry when his tongue found Draco’s teeth exactly as they had been before. A small part of him had been expecting fangs. “What _am_ I going to do?” Draco asked, his lips still pressed against Harry’s.

“The Shrieking Shack,” Harry said, his eyes still closed. His fingers were buried in Draco’s jumper and he could feel Draco’s hands on his hips. “It’s where Lupin went.”

“Really?” Draco’s fingers relaxed on his hips, his nose bumping against Harry’s as he pulled away slightly. Harry nodded, following Draco’s mouth with his own blindly. “How did he get in there? Did he stay in Hogsmede the night before?”

“There’s a secret passage under the Womping Willow – all you have to do is cast _immobolus_ ,” Harry rolled his hips back into Draco’s hands, kissing Draco again. It made him feel better – so much better – it made all of the nerves and the stress disappear. There was a dim part of him that recognised how obscure it was for Harry Potter to be telling Draco Malfoy his secrets, but most of him dismissed that. “I could come with you.”

“No.” Draco pulled away abruptly, his hands catching Harry’s wrists and pulling them away firmly. His eyes searched Harry’s face. “Definitely not.”

“You’re not going back there all by yourself,” Harry said. “I won’t let you.”

“Going to stop me, Potter?” Draco’s eyes sparkled.

“Yes.” Harry’s fingers twitched in Draco’s grasp.

“ _Oui?_ How?”

Harry felt his mouth curve into a wide grin. Draco’s fingers were slack on his skin now, and he twisted his wrists to grip Draco’s, pushing his hands against the bed and kissing him fiercely. He was leaning so far forward that he was almost sat in Draco’s lap. Draco was kissing him back through a smirk, his jaw bumping against Harry’s. His hands twitched underneath him and Harry loosened his grip.

In the next moment, he was on his back, the bed underneath him and he couldn’t quite understand how Draco had managed to overturn him. But he had, and now he was kneeling over Harry, his hands lazily on Harry’s forearms. Harry wasn’t sure how it had happened, but he was sure he liked it.

Draco kissed him again, then trailed his mouth down to Harry’s neck, stray curls catching at his mouth like moths. His teeth grazed Harry’s skin and his breath hitched.

“You’re not doing a very good job, Potter,” Draco murmured, his mouth in the hollow of Harry’s collarbone. The way he said Harry’s name still made his stomach flip. He went to move, but Draco’s grip remained steadfast.

“Shut up, Malfoy.”

Harry felt hot. He felt hot all over, and Draco’s mouth felt hot against his skin, but a good kind of hot, not the stifling hot that he was feeling right now.

So when he felt Draco’s hands at the hem of his t-shirt, he helped him to slip it off, tossing it somewhere into the room. He loved the way he felt the tips of Draco’s fingers run down his stomach and hold his lower back. He loved the feel of Draco’s jumper on his bare skin. He loved this. He loved him.

“There _is_ a person under all that fabric,” Draco murmured against Harry’s stomach and he laughed, running his hands through Draco’s hair.

“I don’t want this to end,” he said, barely aware that it was out loud.

“What?”

“This. Us. I want to be able to do this whenever. I don’t want to have classes and teachers and to have to think about important things.”

Draco hummed lightly, resting his head on Harry’s stomach. “I’ll still be at Hogwarts.”

“In the Dungeons. I’ll be stuck in Gryffindor Tower.”

Draco chuckled and gave him a quick squeeze. “Don’t worry, Princess Potter – I’ll be there to save you from your tower.”

“You’re a complete dick.”

“You love me.”

“I don’t.”

Draco entwined his fingers with Harry’s hands, glancing up at him with sleepy grey eyes.

“Remember, Harry, you must not tell lies.”

*

If Sirius noticed that Harry was wearing Draco’s jumper the next morning, or that Draco’s hand was resting on Harry’s thigh as they sat at the table, he didn’t say anything.

“You’re sure you don’t want to take Grimm with you?” was all he asked. He had attempted pancakes, and though most of them had several holes, they tasted good.

“I’m sure,” Harry said.

“Wouldn’t it be good, though?” Ron asked. “You know, to deal with your-“ he just nodded at Draco. It was bizarre how civil they had all become with each other.

Harry’s gut twisted. He didn’t want to share Sirius. Sirius was _his_ Godfather. He tried to push the notion away, because he hated himself for it. Then again, there wasn’t a lot he hated about himself nowadays.

“Have you decided what your plan is?” Sirius said. He tapped the tabletop nervously.

“I’m going to become an animagus,” Harry couldn’t keep the smirk off of his face as he said it.

“Really?” Sirius’ eyes lit up.

“No. No, he’s not,” Draco’s hand tightened on Harry’s thigh. “He’s not doing anything illegal this year.”

“That would be a first,” Ron muttered.

“Okay, sure,” Sirius waited a full second before he leant across the table and said conspiratorially. “But, you know, if you do want to go for it, McGonagall’s oddly helpful-“

“ _No_ ,” Draco said. Sirius just gave his bark of laughter and Harry had to smother his own chuckle.

“You wouldn’t, would you, Harry?” Hermione asked.

Harry glanced at Draco, still grinning, and just shrugged. It felt like all of this was just to avoid the elephant in the room. It couldn’t be ignored, that this was the day they were heading back to Hogwarts. It was time to face the rest of the school.

It was time to face Nott.

Lupin was the one to take them to Platform nine and three quarters. They took the tube, awkwardly crowing themselves in. Harry thought Ron, Ginny and Draco were about to hyperventilate as the tube sped off underground.

“And you mocked me for feeling queasy using floo powder,” Harry muttered into Draco’s ear.

“Shut up, Potter.”

That wasn’t all Harry noticed. He also noticed that Lupin had his fingers buried in Sirius’ fur the whole ride there. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He wanted Sirius to be happy – he wanted them to be able to be together if they wanted. It clearly hadn’t worked out at Hogwarts. But he wasn’t sure where it left him and Lupin. Lupin had been a great teacher, but as his Godfather’s boyfriend? Harry wasn’t sure he’d be able to get used to that.

They all arrived at King’s Cross in one piece, though Ginny was gripping _tightly_ to Harry’s arm as they stepped up the escalators.

Mrs Weasley was there on the platform, fussing over everyone and looking like half a person. It was as though she had lost an arm or a leg and Harry half expected Mr Weasley to step out from behind the pillar like nothing had happened.

Harry buried his face in the ruff of Sirius’ fur to give himself the moment he needed to recompose himself.

“I’ll be fine,” he said into Sirius’ fur. “I have the mirror with me – and I’ll keep in touch.”

Dog-Sirius just wagged his tail.

“You go on, Harry,” Draco placed a hand on his elbow. “I’ll be right behind you.”

His first name from Draco Malfoy’s mouth was as good a pet name as he was ever going to get. He nodded, and said goodbye to Lupin, almost got squeezed to death by Molly Weasley, then stumbled onto the train with his trunk.

The first-years gaped at him, and most of the older years scowled at him, but thankfully Neville Longbottom stuck his head out of a nearby compartment. Harry ducked in, saying a brief ‘hello’ to Neville, but staring out the window. Draco was still on the platform, talking soberly to Lupin.

“How was your summer, Harry?” Neville asked somewhere behind him.

Lupin put a hand on Draco’s shoulder. He broke into a small, tight smile and gave Draco’s a light squeeze. Harry was desperate to know what they were saying.

“Harry?”

Draco gave a small, barely perceptible smile. He said something, then leant down to Sirius’ eye-level. He stood there for a moment, talking earnestly. Sirius panted, then gave Draco his paw.

Harry looked up to avoid Draco’s eye as he turned.

“Yeah, yeah, it was fine,” Harry said.

“Did you stay with,” Neville paused, looking around the train as though a ministry official might pop out at any second. “Sirius Black _all_ summer?”

Harry nodded, bemused by the expression of awe on Neville’s face.

“And Draco _Malfoy_?”

“Well, we are kind of dating, and his dad did just get sent to Askaban.”

“Did you sleep in the same room?”

“Well, sometimes,” Harry felt his face going red.

“Gran would have gone mad. You’re so lucky.”

Harry was saved from having to salvage an answer by the arrival of Hermione, Ron and Ginny into the carriage.

Lucky. Neville didn’t know that he could have just as easily been in Harry’s place. He could just as easily have been the chosen one. Would he even have had the same rivalry as Harry and Draco? Or would Draco still have hated Harry?

It would have been easier, if he had never been the chosen one. There were the obvious reasons why, but he couldn’t help but think how little the school would have cared if Harry wasn’t the chosen one. Just a Gryffindor and Slytherin going out. No one would have even found out.

But according to Neville, he was lucky.

They were all chatting about their summers around him and he tried to zone in. To listen to Ginny’s stories about how awful ‘phlegm’ was and hear Ron’s stammering, red-faced defences.

There was a sudden thump as someone crashed into their window. Harry spotted a flash of blonde hair and was at the sliding door in seconds, his wand already out and a snarl on his face.

He was pushed inside by Draco – a dishevelled, pale Draco who glanced over his shoulder worriedly.

“What happened?” Harry demanded, pushing against Draco’s hands.

“Nothing that concerns you,” Draco snapped. “Weasley, stop him before he hurts someone.”

He felt Ron grab him too, pulling him down onto the seat and keeping hold of his elbow. Draco slid the door back and turned his back against it.

“Draco-“

“Shut up.”

“No.”

“I said, shut up.”

“I’m not just going to sit here and-“

“For once in your life, Potter – ignore it!”

The others had been watching the exchange like a tennis match and when Draco’s voice rose to a shout, they watched carefully for Harry’s response. He swallowed, his face warm.

“How can I?” he asked, surprising himself at how soft his voice was.

Draco just shook his head, exasperated.

“Lovegood’s looking for you,” he said to Ginny.

“Oh _fuck_ ,” Ginny buried her face in her hands, her hair falling forwards like a curtain. “Did you tell her where I am?”

“I only catch the snitch, I’m not one.” Draco said. He was still breathing heavily, even if he did cross his arms against his chest nonchalantly.

“We _can’t_ let her in here.”

“Why not?” Neville asked.

“ _Because_ I kissed her and she pulled away and I can’t ever see her again!” Ginny snapped.

Neville looked taken aback, blinking at her.

“Why don’t you just talk to her about it?” he asked.

Ginny just rolled her eyes, lolling against Harry’s other side.

“Lupin gave me the recipe for Wolfsbane potion,” Draco said to Harry. “We’ll have to find a way to make it every month without Snape knowing.”

“Wolfsbane?” Neville echoed.

“That’s easy enough – you can use Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. That’s where we brewed Polyjuice potion in second year.” Hermione said.

“You did what?” Neville glanced between them.

“ _Polyjuice_ potion? In _second_ year?” Draco echoed, and when Hermione nodded with an only slightly smug grin, added. “I hate to admit that’s impressive, Granger. What did you use it for?”

“Breaking into the Slytherin Common Room,” Ron said with all the air of someone remarking on the weather.

“ _What_?” Neville looked on the verge of a mental breakdown.

“That’s so _Gryffindor_ ,” Draco rolled his eyes.

“You guys never told me that? Fill me in!” Neville said.

Harry shifted. He felt it was too late to tell Draco that he and Ron had pretended to be Crabbe and Goyle because they thought he was the heir of Slytherin.

“Maybe later,” he muttered, strangely thankful that so far Draco had been ignoring Neville completely. It was typical Draco behaviour and it usually annoyed him, but anything to avoid an awkward conversation. “So, Neville, how was your summer?”

Neville made a few mumbled sentences and mentioned something about Quidditch. It was enough of a conversation starter for Ron to gabble on with until it was time for the perfects to head to their meeting. He sloped off with Hermione and Draco.

“And then there were three,” Harry muttered.

“Four,” Neville nodded to the door.

Luna Lovegood was standing there, looking oddly owlish in oversized spectacles.

“I couldn’t find you guys,” she said. “I saw Hermione and Ron and Draco leave from here and thought you must be here too – not that I was standing outside waiting or anything. I just prefer to stand on the train journey, and that’s how I saw them. I thought maybe we could all hang out together – the Department of Mystery crew. We could have t-shirts.”

Harry could feel Ginny withering next to him as he nodded and smiled politely.

“I’m going to change into my uniform,” she said, standing abruptly and staring at the floor. Harry had never belived that Ginny Weasley could be shy.

“Would you like me to keep you company?”

Ginny just nudged past Luna, setting off down the train corridor quickly.

“Oh dear,” Luna sighed, pushing the huge glasses up onto her forehead. “She must not have read my letters.”

“I’m sorry, Luna,” Harry said.

“It’s alright,” Luna sat next to him, resting her heels on the floor so her toes pointed upwards. One of the soles of her boots was flapping off. “I could never rue her for the way she feels. It’s the only thing you can’t help.”

“Yeah,” Harry thought he followed, but he could never quite tell with Luna. “So, um, what’re the glasses for?”

“Rackspurts.”

“Of course.”

He had missed Luna. He wished he could talk to her normally again, as a mate, but he couldn’t push Ginny out of his mind. There was something that wasn’t quite working whilst he wondered what she was doing with herself.

A first year eventually came around and squeaked that Professor Slughorn wanted to see Harry and Neville, so they awkwardly left Luna in the carriage. She seemed fairly content to sit with the latest issue of the Quibbler.

It was the start of an extremely awkward meeting of ‘exceptional’ students. Harry had never felt so unexceptional. The only thing he had going for him was the Chosen One and he wasn’t doing so well with that. Ginny had ended up next to him and periodically nudged him at every in-joke. They all tried to ignore McLaggen and Blaise’s glares at Harry and Slughorn seemed blind to it all. He wondered how long it would be before he found out and lost his taste for collecting Harry.

They were trapped there until it got dark, but when they were finally free, Harry slipped his invisibility cloak on and gave Ginny a meaningful nod.

“What are you two up to? Are you leaving me out again?” Neville asked.

“Not on purpose, Neville, I promise,” Ginny said. “It’s just – something we learnt about over summer.”

“Can’t I come with you?” Neville pressed. He looked desperate. Harry had a hunch it was to do with sharing a carriage with Luna Lovegood and Luna Lovegood alone.

Ginny shook her head, and Harry gave a helpless shrug.

“We’ll fill you in, Neville. Really,” he said.

Then he made his head disappear with the rest of his body and hurried down the corridor after Ginny.

“Blaise,” she was calling. He stopped for half a second for her to catch up and she flashed him a winning smile. “I didn’t know all that stuff, about you, I mean.”

“And what, Weasley? You want to hang out with me now?” he asked.

“No fear,” Ginny said, for a second rage sparked in her eyes. Then she was back to smiling sweetly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I just, well you must know by now – I lost my dad over the summer, so I know how hard it is-“

They had reached the door of the Slytherin carriage and Blaise had pulled it open, but now he stopped and stared at Ginny. Harry took the opportunity to scoot around the pair and push himself rather uncomfortably into the luggage rack.

“What would a filthy little blood traitor like _you_ know about anything?” he spat. “You’re _nothing_ , Weasley. Your dad was a waste of space at the Ministry, and so is the rest of your family.”

Harry was half-tempted to ditch the plan, throw his cloak off and punch Blaise in the face there and then.

Ginny’s face didn’t even go red. She held Blaise’s gaze evenly, even though Pansy Parkinson was shrieking with laughter.

“Of course,” she said. “Sorry to bother you.”

But Harry had seen her hand flash. She had dropped something in Blaise’s bag. He recognised the logo of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes and he shuddered for the Slytherin. The wrath of Ginny Weasley was not something to be taken lightly.

Ginny left, with something of a triumphant skip in her step, and Blaise entered the carriage, shaking his head.

Harry took the chance to look around. Crabbe. Goyle. Pansy, Blaise. And Nott. He sat in the corner, dark eyes flicking away from Blaise and back out the window. His face remained as impassive as ever. That was what had allowed him to survive so long, Harry knew – he never let the others know when they had gone too far.

He didn’t look well. His skin was pale and his hair hung forward. Whilst Pansy and Blaise continued to criticize Ginny – making Harry’s blood boil – he continued to stare out of the window.

“You’ve been quiet, Nott,” Blaise said eventually. “You still missing your little buddy?”

“I take it you mean Draco?” Nott asked quietly. He gave a small shrug. “Not much. It’s all a bit awkward now, isn’t it?”

“Having someone like him in sleeping in the same dorm as you? Yeah, it bloody is.” Blaise shook his head. He hadn’t used ‘someone like him.’

Harry tuned out the rest of the conversation, and it looked like Nott did too. The idea had been that Harry would be able to eavesdrop on the Slytherins in the hopes that Nott would divulge _something_. They weren’t entirely sure how the Imperius curse worked, but any clue as to what had happened in Diagon Alley would give them the start they needed.

 “I can see Hogwarts.”

They clambered to get their trunks and bags. Harry pressed himself into as small a ball as he could against the corner of the carriage. Unsurprisingly, Nott was the last to leave. He kept glancing back at the window, as though he was worried of moving out of sight.

“Nott, hey, mate,” Ron said, as soon as the rest of the Slytherins had cleared out. He stood in the doorway with Hermione and Draco just behind him. He could see her wand grabbed tightly in her hand.

“Weasley,” Nott said. His face looked blank.

“I just, wanted to check you were okay, and all,” Ron continued. He stepped forward, cutting off Nott’s exit.

“I’m fine,” he said, shifting from foot to foot. “Look, it’s probably not a good idea you speak to me – the others – they’ll-“

“But I _do_ need to speak to you.” Ron stepped forward again. “About Diagon Alley.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“This is an intervention, Theo,” Draco and Hermione stepped forward, and Harry thought that was as good a time as any to throw off the invisibility cloak. He hoped it looked dramatic.

Nott glanced around at them and gave a nervous laugh. The train had stopped now, and he was eyeing his bag.

“How long were you there? I don’t think you’re allowed invisibility cloaks on school grounds.”

“Did you hear anything?” Hermione asked Harry. He shook his head.

“We saw you, Theo, in Nocturn Alley. With your father.”

“My father’s in Askaban,” Nott said slowly. There was even a touch of hurt in his voice as he added. “You know that, Draco.”

“No, he’s not. He was talking to you in Nocturn Alley – try to remember.”

Nott frowned and shook his head. He looked genuinely confused and Harry had to feel sorry for him. His father had obviously covered his tracks. Whatever it was that he had asked Nott to do, he would have done it without a second’s thought.

“I don’t go to Nocturn Alley. It would be suicide right now.”

“Mate, we saw you – your dad, he used the imperius curse.”

“Why are you doing this?” Nott demanded suddenly. “It’s not funny! I’d expect this from a bunch of second years, but not you lot.”

“It’s no joke, Theo,” Draco’s voice was soft, he stepped closer to Nott, who was shaking his head more quickly now and backing away.

“I thought you were my friend, Draco. I didn’t think you’d – is this just because you’re hanging out with a bunch of Gryffindors now?”

“I’m hanging out with people who won’t garotte me. I am your friend. And I’m worried about you.”

“Friends don’t do this to each other. They don’t make each other think that they’ve seen-“

“You did see him, mate,” Ron said. He went to put a hand on Nott’s shoulder but was slapped away.

“ _Don’t_ call me mate, Weasley,” Nott snarled. He pressed the heel of his palm against his forehead, looking almost on the verge of tears. “Stop it – you’re making the good feelings go! This is the first time I’ve felt happy for months and-“

“That’s it. That’s the sign that he’s under the curse,” Harry said, to who he did not know.

Hermione moved like lightning, pushing around Draco and pointing her wand at Nott.

“ _Stupefy!_ ”

“What the hell, Granger?!”

“Hermione!”

Draco and Ron shouted at once as Nott crumpled and fell to the floor with a sickening thud.

“Well you two weren’t getting anyway using the whole ‘Care Bear stare’ tactic,” Hermione said. “Honestly – you really think you can talk someone out of the imperius curse?”

“Sometimes I don’t understand a word you’re saying,” Ron muttered, evidently still stuck on the ‘Care Bear stare’ part.

“I thought a good bump on the head would set things right,” Hermione said.

The three boys stared at her.

“He’s going to hate us for real now,” Draco muttered.

They heard footsteps and hurriedly stood in a line to cover the body slumped over the seats of the carriage. Harry wasn’t sure what the punishment would be for stupefying someone on the Hogwarts Express, but he doubted any of the teachers would be sympathetic about it.

But it was just Tonks.

“Wotcher, Harry. Ron, Hermione,” she nodded at them, then frowned. “Why are you still on the train?”

“Just – hanging around,” Harry said, slowly. He had Draco sigh in exasperation.

“The feast is probably already starting – wouldn’t you rather be in the warmth? Eating food?”

They shrugged or shook their heads respectively, but Ron’s stomach gurgled loudly.

“Unrelated question, Tonks. But how would you go about breaking an imperius curse?” Harry asked.

“You can always kill the person that put it on them in the first place. But usually the person themselves can break out of it – it takes a lot of strength of mind, though.”

“’Care Bear stare’ method,” Harry whispered to Hermione, who elbowed him sharply.

“Why’d you ask?” Tonks frowned at them all.

There was a pause. Harry had run out of not so clever ideas.

“Bet,” Ron said, eventually. “Draco, you owe me a galleon.”

Draco stiffened, pressing his tongue into his cheek. After a moment, however, he handed over the coin. Ron grinned, looking as though Christmas had come early.

“We’ll be going now,” Hermione said. “We’ll be right behind you, Tonks.”

Tonks gave them one last, querying look, before she nodded and headed back down the corridor.

They turned as one to Theodore Nott, who was beginning to stir. There was a large red mark on his forehead where he had fallen, and he pressed a hand to it. He looked more dazed and confused than angry.

“Right, Nott, I know you have no idea what’s going on, but you have to get up and walk,” Ron said in one breath, pulling at Nott’s elbow.

“Why do I feel like I’ve just been steamrolled?” Nott groaned, his knees struggling to support his weight.

“It’s a long story,” Draco looped Nott’s other arm over his shoulder. “And we’ve got a long walk to tell it to you.”

Tonks was standing on the platform, anxiously tapping her wand against her thigh.

“Where’d he come from?”

“He was there the whole time,” Harry said. It wasn’t strictly a lie.

They began the long, slow walk from Hogsmede station to Hogwarts castle. Harry hadn’t thought the cold would bother him, but with the promise of the fires of the Great Hall and the huge welcome feast, it seemed to chill him to the bone. His mind was longing to fantasize about the Yorkshire puddings and the gravy and the cheese sauce. He missed Hogwarts’ cheese sauce all summer – Sirius’ was watery. He could usually spend hours daydreaming about Hogwarts food – but now he had bigger things to worry about. Nott was still groggy and completely out of it, so they had no idea if anything they had done worked.

Really, Harry’s plan should have been something a bit more substantial than ‘dive in headfirst.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N): Did you really think Harry would make any kind of plan apart from 'dive in headfirst and hope for the best?'  
> This chapter felt like a lot of filler and banter but that's what the lads wanted to do so that's what came out. Now that they're actually at Hogwarts I feel like I at least know where I'm going slightly.  
> Slightly.  
> Thank you for reading and commenting and leaving kudos! <3  
> Here are the links:
> 
> My Webcomic: https://www.webtoons.com/en/challenge/in-his-shadow/list?title_no=226226 (Webtoons)  
> https://tapas.io/series/In-His-Shadow (Tapastic)  
> My Instagram: turntups  
> My tumblr: turnupsdrawssometimes.tumblr.com / steamcogsandwebcomics.tumblr.com


	4. 4

4

Harry wondered if Tonks knew about Lupin and Sirius.

Snape had mentioned something about Tonks’ patronus, when he had come to open the gate. Draco had whispered what it must have been in Harry’s ear. Werewolf. So Harry wondered if Tonks knew. Not that _he_ knew for certain there was something going on between them. But he could imagine them together more easily than he could imagine Tonks and Lupin.

Those were the thoughts that circled around his head as they walked up to Hogwarts, behind Snape’s dark, shadowy figure. He looked more like a character from one of Dudley’s horror films than a teacher. At least he had only taken fifty house points from Harry. Draco and Nott’s presence had cancelled out Ron and Hermione’s.

“Are any of you going to _attempt_ to explain why Mr Nott is in such a state?” Snape drawled. He didn’t even bother to look back.

“He – fell.” Ron said. “As we were getting off the train.”

“He didn’t mind the gap,” Harry said, helpfully. He received a curled lipped glance from Snape for his troubles.

“Keep lying and I’ll take off another fifty house points.”

They were silent. Draco looked about to say something, but Harry elbowed him in the ribs and he shut his mouth.

Draco and Nott got off easy, they were able to creep off to the dungeons as soon as they were in the castle, claiming Nott needed his rest after his ‘fall.’ Harry, Ron and Hermione had to follow Snape into the Great Hall, passing under his eagle eyes. Harry got the impression that he was waiting for one of them to break and come clean. He decided he shouldn’t have got his hopes up about that in the first place.

There were whispers surrounding Harry as he made his way to his seat, and not the usual whispers of awe that made his skin crawl. He couldn’t decide which he hated more.

“Do you think it worked?” Hermione whispered. Dumbledore’s voice droned on in the background, but Harry couldn’t even look at him. “Stupefy, I mean.”

Harry shrugged.

“What would Nott even be able to do for you-know-who whilst at Hogwarts?” Ron said.

“Spy on me?”

“He could do that with leglimency.” Hermione said. “It has to be something different. Maybe it’s like the diary – maybe he left something here?”

“That’s stupid. Why would he put more of his personal belongings in here?” Ron said.

They were distracted by the announcement of Horace Slughorn as the potions Professor, and before they could even question it amongst themselves, they were hit with the sledgehammer of news that Snape was taking up the Defence Against the Dark Arts position.

There was a stunned silence throughout the hall.

“Well,” Ron managed to say eventually, as though he had just been punched in the gut. “Maybe you could kill him too, eh, Harry?”

*

“He doesn’t even have to _die_ , exactly,” Ron continued as they were coming out of the Great Hall. “He could go completely mental – like Lockheart. I’d like that, actually. We could visit him in St Mungos.”

“It’s not funny that you two are responsible for every Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher leaving,” Hermione said.

“Not _every_ one. Draco took care of Lupin.”

“And _we_ took care of Dumbridge, thank you very much,” Ginny said, coming up behind them.

“At least that’s a comfort,” Ron said. “Snape can’t be any worse than Umbridge.”

“Oh yes, we’ve stepped up from masochistic torturer to general sadist,” Hermione said.

“I’m going to go to the dungeons,” Harry said. He had been silent until now, staring off at the abyss the staircases left behind them. “I’ll use the invisibility cloak.”

There was a slight pause.

“Snape’s already out for your blood tonight, Harry. Are you sure?” Hermione said.

“Can we come?” Ron said, over the top. “We can still fit the three of us under the cloak.”

“I was thinking of going alone,” Harry continued staring down the staircase as the checkered pattern on the bottom floor.

“Because you’re worried about Nott or because you want to snog Malfoy?”

“Be quiet, Ron. You only want to go because _you_ want to snog Nott,” Hermione said.

“That’s not true. I’m not – I don’t like him like that, okay?”

“Who _do_ you like like that, then?”

“Piss off, Hermione.” Ron’s face bloomed carnation pink.

“I give him till the end of the year before he asks her out,” Ginny whispered in Harry’s ear, and raised her eyebrows at his confused glance. Ron and _Hermione_? The idea was too weird.

“I’ll see you later,” he muttered, whipping the cloak back around him and heading back down the stairs.

He wasn’t feeling the usual relief that he usually felt when he returned to Hogwarts. His lessons alone with Dumbledore had seemed very far away in Summer, but now they seemed  horribly close. It could be tomorrow that he’d be sat in Dumbledore’s office. just the two of them. It hadn’t been like that since Arthur Weasley’s death. He had no idea what he’d say anymore. A small part of him had also been expecting the whole ‘gay’ thing to be old news, but it evidently wasn’t.

The dungeons were completely deserted. He supposed everyone was getting an early night after the huge feast. At least that made it simple for him pad down the corridor. Ut was only when he turned the corner to the Slytherin Common Room that he realised that he wouldn’t know the new password.

He needn’t have worried. Draco was leaning against the wall, flicking sparks from his wand.

“That didn’t take long,” he muttered as Harry came close. He wondered if he had super hearing now – because there was no way he could see him. “Couldn’t stand an hour away from me, Potter?”

“I came to see about Nott,” Harry said, letting the cloak fall so that just his head was visible. He had decided it was better to ignore Draco’s jibes.

“He’s inside.”

“Are we going in?”

“No.”

Harry paused. The invisibility cloak flapped around him so that he looked like a mirage.

“Do you not know the password?” he said, in what he meant to be a sympathetic tone.

“Of course I know the password,” Draco snapped. “He said he’d meet me out here.”

“Draco?”

“What?”

“Where are you going to sleep tonight, if you’ve decided to never step foot in the Common Room again?”

“With you, obviously.” He had said it as though it was a given fact.

“I’m in a dorm, though,” Harry said, and at Draco’s slightly raised eyebrow continued. “There are four other people in my dorm, Draco.”

“So what’s one more?” Draco replied. He stepped forward, dipping his head toward Harry and hooking his fingers into Harry’s belt loops.

Harry rolled his eyes so hard they hurt, but he entwined his fingers into Draco’s and accepted the oncoming kiss. It felt like the only thing that was normal. The only thing that was safe here.

“That’s not a solution.”

Draco didn’t answer. He rested his chin on the top of Harry’s head so that he couldn’t look him in the eye. He was just about to open his mouth to press Draco further, but a rumbling sound signalled that the wall was opening. He shoved the rest of the invisibility cloak into his rucksack, stepping away from Draco, but one hand still curled around Draco’s fingers like puzzle pieces.

It was the moment of truth – if his half-thought-out plan had worked.

“Hey,” Nott’s voice was quiet, and he wasn’t meeting Harry or Draco’s eyes. His dark hair fell over dark eyes.

“Hey,” Draco’s voice was soft and understanding. It caused a tinge of annoyance in Harry and he tried to push it away.

“Probably a good thing that you didn’t come in,” Nott said. “You’re not Slytherin’s golden boy any longer.”

“Who is? Zabini?”

“Naturally.”

Draco gave a snort of disdain, but it broke the tension that had built up since Nott’s arrival. Harry found himself snickering and saw Nott smile slightly.

Nott saw him too. He looked back at Harry and his smile faded. He leant against the entrance to the Slytherin Common room.

“I’m afraid I won’t be of much help to either of you,” he said. “You want to know why I was under the Imperius curse, right?”

“We want to make sure you’re okay,” Harry said. “That’s the most important thing.”

“You’ll die, thinking like that, Harry Potter,” Nott’s lips flickered upwards. “This is a war. The war comes before the people.”

Harry crossed his arms.

“What’s the point of winning a war if you’ve sacrificed everyone you love along the way?”

He had thought it a deep, philosophical question. He had thought it would stump them.

Instead, Draco smirked and elbowed Nott.

“Typical Gryffindor answer.”

“ _Are_ you okay, Nott?” Harry pressed, ignoring the smirks.

“Aside from getting stupefied? Yeah, I’m fine. But I can’t tell you much else. I remember seeing my dad at Diagon Alley – I remember following him into Knockturn Alley. I didn’t – I didn’t think that he knew I was there. I just – I thought it would be of some help to you if he was on to something. But he saw me. He cornered me outside Borgin and Burkes. That was when he cursed me.”

“We saw you arguing with him,” Draco said. “What was that about?”

“I don’t know. He wanted me to do something. I can’t tell you what.”

“Maybe he cast obliviate,” Harry said. “But even then, he would have given you directions under the Imperius curse.”

“Victims aren’t always aware of them,” Draco said. “If you’re really skilled-“

“Late night picnic, boys?”

Harry felt the force of an arctic tornado blow straight through him. That was Snape’s voice. He felt the looming shadow over him now, like a murderer in a horror movie, and wondered how he hadn’t noticed it before. He hadn’t even _heard_ Snape coming.

"Potter just came down to check that I was okay after the train," Nott said. He spoke loudly, his eyes holding Snape's so that he didn't spot Harry uncurling his fingers from Draco's.

“How,” Snape took a moment to find the right word, a look of utter revulsion on his features. “Thoughtful. Unfortunately, given the hour of the visit, Potter’s kindness will result in twenty House Points taken from Gryffindor.”

Harry felt a vague anger, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about House Points when there was so much else going on. House Points seemed like a first year worry. He wasn’t even sure he cared about the House Cup anymore.

“I was just leaving,” Harry said, he turned to go, making an effort to ignore Draco completely.

“Not so fast, Potter,” Snape’s voice was like a whip in the air. Harry stayed facing away from him allowing himself an eye-roll, feeling Snape’s hand clamp down on his shoulder like a claw. “We need to have a word. Mr Nott, I believe Madame Pomfrey would tell you to get an early night after the bump you’ve had, don’t you think?”

Nott looked at Harry. There was a moment where Harry was unsure of what the other boy was going to do. Then it passed and Nott nodded, ducking back into the Slytherin Common Room. It was just like before – when Harry and Draco had been revealed to the whole school. There had been that moment where it looked like Nott wouldn’t care. The summer hadn’t given him the guts to stand up to Slytherin yet.

“Do you want me to have an early night too?” Draco asked Snape, but his voice lacked it’s usual snark.

“Both of you need to listen to me – look at me when I am talking to you, Potter!”

Harry turned, shoving his hands into his pockets and fixing an indifferent expression on his face as he looked up at Snape.

“What you’re doing here is not a wise idea,” Snape said. He wasn’t looking at either of them, he was looking at something down the corridor and talking with gritted teeth.

“Professor, what are you talking about?” Draco asked. He seemed at ease with this, but then Snape had always been a friend of his father’s. Maybe they’d always had little chats like this. It would be Harry’s worst nightmare – he couldn’t even imagine having a chat with McGonagall.

“Do not think for a moment that anything can happen in this castle without the faculty’s knowledge. Especially not trivial gossip.”

Harry wondered if he’d been the one to hit his head after all. Only in his darkest nightmares would he be discussing his love life with Severus Snape. He couldn’t even think of something witty to say, he just stared at the man in disbelief.

“It’s not illegal,” Draco said. “There’s nothing wrong with it-“

“Evidently some people disagree.”

Snape savoured his ‘s,’ like he was hissing them.

“I don’t care,” Draco crossed his arms.

“Then why aren’t you in your dormitory?”

Draco paled and glanced away. He looked ghostly in the green tinted light of the dungeons.

“If you would like to finish this academic year in tact, I would recommend being discreet and keeping out of Mr Nott’s business,” Snape said. He left them with his trademark withering glance, before he started down the corridor, his shoes leaving an ominous click. It sounded like a clock counting down to something.

“You’re not going to make me go into the common room?” Draco asked at his retreating form. Harry could have punched him – he had to make Snape pause _just_ as he was leaving.

“I do not think that would be a wise move in the current circumstances, do you, Mr Malfoy?”

He seemed to vanish underneath one of the lamps like a phantom.

“Snape’s being nice to you,” Harry felt like he had whiplash from the whole conversation.

“He’s always nice to me,” Draco curled his fingers back into Harry’s starting the opposite way down the corridor. “It’s _you_ he hates.”

Harry wasn’t entirely convinced. He was sure that Snape’s hatred of him overided his tolerance for Draco. If there was an excuse to punish him, it usually came above everything else.

But he hadn’t.

And he had mentioned Nott.

“He knows something – he said to stay out of Nott’s business,” Harry said. His fingers felt frozen, even though Draco was squeezing them.

“Of course he knows something, he’s the Dark Lord’s right hand.”

“Does that mean he’ll tell Dumbledore?” they had reached the Entrance Hall and Harry paused, searching the shadows for any sign of Mrs Norris.

“Who knows?” Draco leant against him. “I wouldn’t put too much faith in Dumbledore doing anything even if he does know.”

Harry still hated to agree with Draco on anything, even less when it was about Dumbledore, but this time he felt obliged to. It had happened last summer – the last day of exams – there hadn’t been a single adult Harry could turn to for help.

And now Mr Weasley was dead and Draco was a werewolf.

Adults just weren’t to be trusted.

*

Draco was gone from Harry’s bed when he woke up, but he had been expecting that. If they were caught, they’d be in trouble, not to mention the rest of the tower’s reaction. He had been expecting to see Draco at breakfast, even if it was at the end of the Slytherin table, but he wasn’t there either.

“You can’t expect him to sit at the Gryffindor table with us all the time, can you?” Hermione said. He hadn’t even had to open his mouth. “Stop mooning over him like a teenage girl, Harry. You’ve had all summer together.”

“You know, Hermione, you should do motivational speaking,” Ron said through a heavily buttered croissant.

She just rolled her eyes, but was all smiles when McGonagall came around to hand out their timetables.

Harry couldn’t say he was impressed that he had to continue potions for another two years, even if it did mean becoming an auror. He hadn’t been aware that this was so easily readable on his face, however, until McGonagall said:

“Come along, Mr Potter, you might find that the change of staff has made the subject more bearable for you.”

At least Ron understood his feelings. He looked just as glum about trekking down to the dark dungeons on such a warm sunny day.

But then he stopped halfway down the corridor and groaned.

“You and Malfoy are going to be completely unbearable again, aren’t you?” he said.

Harry just shrugged and smiled. Maybe McGonagall was right – maybe this wouldn’t be all bad.

“Don’t worry, Ron, I’ll let Hermione be your potions partner.”

“That’s almost as unbearable,” Ron said. “Can you imagine how annoying she’ll be if she carries me through this year of potions? There’ll be no stopping her.”

Harry laughed, and kept walking as the turned into the classroom. It was a great way to get everyone already in the class to stare at them. They scuttled over to Hermione, trying to act natural. Nott caught their eye and gave them a small smile, but still didn’t dare to go over to them.

It was barely seconds before Harry sensed the presence behind him.

“Malfoy,” he said, curtly.

“Potter. Didn’t think you’d make it into the NEWTs class.”

Harry couldn’t stop grinning, but as he turned to glance over his shoulder at Draco, he hoped it looked a little more like a smirk.

“I had a great teacher last term,” he said. It made Draco’s eyes glitter and he couldn’t help but add. “It’s a shame you were busy.”

“ _Petite merde_ ,” Draco muttered, but he was grinning too, his hands finding Harry’s waist.

For a brilliant moment, it was just like it was back at Grimmauld Place – just the two of them with relentless teasing but also relentless affection.

Then Ernie Macmillan had to enter. He began to talk to them, more pompous than usual, as though he had something to prove to the rest of the class. It was a ‘look at me, I’m talking to Potter because I don’t have a problem he’s gay’ kind of pompous. The kind of pompous that made Draco’s hands disappear from Harry’s waist and Harry’s smile turn tight on his face.

It was a mercy that Slughorn took that moment to enter, a second after his stomach.

Harry and Ron were able to borrow books and scales for the lesson, though Harry knew he was going to steal Draco’s anyway. It would be an annoying inconvenience to share scales, and the thought put the grin back on his face.

Maybe this year wouldn’t be so bad after all.

He recognised some of the potions Slughorn had set out, but also knew that there was no stopping Hermione’s hand shooting in the air. He had seen veriterserum before – Snape had waved it in his face in his fourth year – and Polyjuice potion. He couldn’t help but think its sludgy appearance was apt for its taste. He hadn’t, however, seen-

“Armontentia!” Hermione’s voice came back to him. “It’s the most powerful love potion in the world.”

“Quite right!” Slughorn looked like a bemused uncle. “You recognised it, I suppose, by its distinctive mother of pearl sheen?”

“And the steam rising in characteristic spirals. It’s supposed to smell differently to each of us, according to what attracts us, and I can smell freshly mown grass and-“

“Well Potter,” Draco tilted his head forward so that he was whispering in Harry’s ear. “What do you smell?”

Harry smelt vanilla and cinnamon – Draco. He smelt onions frying – the smell that lurked around Grimmauld place. He smelt the stuffy, sweaty broom cupboard that Draco kissed him in.

“Wet dog,” he whispered instead.

“You just wait until later, Potter-“

“Mr Potter?”

Slughorn’s voice cut across them and Harry felt his face flood with heat. The whole class was staring at him. Someone whispered.

“S-sorry, Professor?”

“When you told me your best friend was muggleborn and that she was the best in your year, where you referring to Miss Granger?” Slughorn repeated. He seemed completely unaware of Draco.

“Oh – yeah – yeah I did.”

  “Now, Armontentia doesn’t really create _love_ , of course. It is impossible to manufacture or imitate love. No, this will simply cause a powerful infatuation or obsession-“

Slughorn neglected to hear the hissed “bet that’s what Malfoy slipped to Potter” from somewhere in the back of the room. Draco didn’t. His fingers curled around Harry’s, stepping forward slightly to hide it.

Thankfully, as soon as Slughorn explained _felix felicius_ , there was a complete silence around the room. Everyone became completely absorbed in perfecting their draught of living death.

And Harry discovered he had a secret weapon. He had followed the books tip about the bean juice on the off chance, but it had been right. All of the scribbled little notes had been right.

It was the first time he had ever been any good at potions. Hearing that his mother was that good should have filled him with pride, but instead he felt guilty. He hadn’t really bothered with potions until he knew he had to have a good grade for his NEWTS, and even then it was mainly because of Draco’s influence that he got an ‘E’ at all.

But he had the Felix Felicius, and he was sure that it was going to be useful.

“It’s a shame we didn’t have it last year,” Ron said. “We could have split it all between us – between seven of us that would’ve been an hour and a half of perfect luck. That’s all we would have needed for the battle in the Ministry of Magic. Maybe then…”

He trailed off. Harry gave him what he hoped was a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

“We’ll have an opportunity this year I’m sure,” Harry said. “If we had a little advanced warning, I could down it and then duel Voldemort. We’d be over and done with in ten minutes.”

“Let me see that book,” Draco said suddenly. Both he and Hermione had noticed him changing the instructions and both had peered at the spidery handwriting curiously.

“It’s cursed, isn’t it? There’s definitely something not right about that book,” Hermione said eargerly.

“Yeah, Potter will be cursed with good grades for this year,” Draco scoffed. He flicked it open. “No – it’s this handwriting. It seems familiar, doesn’t it?”

They all peered over it. Harry had to admit there was something he recognised in the letters, but he couldn’t place it.

“Good book?” Ginny had joined them, raising an eyebrow at the book between them.

“Ginny – Harry’s been taking orders from a book,” Hermione said, immediately looking to her for back-up.

Ginny’s eyes flashed with anger and her cheeks turned red.

“She makes it sound worse than it is,” Harry said. “It’s just some old textbook and someone’s written different instructions. Better instructions.”

“If they’re better instructions then why would someone leave it here?” Ginny asked.

She had a point, as much as Harry hated to admit it.

“Who’s is it, anyway?” Ginny continued. She took it, to protest, and scanned the back cover. “The Half-Blood Prince?”

“Sounds like a loser,” Ron said as Ginny handed the battered book back to Harry.

“How was your day, Ginny,” Harry said. The staircases had decided to changes and they waited at the bottom for it to return.

“Oh, it was great. I love sharing charms with the Ravenclaws,” Ginny’s voice oozed with sarcasm.

“So you did what Potter would do and hid?” Draco asked.

“How can I be friends with her when I know she doesn’t feel the same way?” Ginny asked. She had to shout over the grinding of the stairs as it slipped back to its original position. She was looking at Draco and Draco only, as though Harry’s advice was meaningless.

“Did you – read any of her letters, Ginny?” Harry asked gently as they stepped onto the stairs.

“I don’t need her to turn me down in writing as well.”

“Read one – the first one is probably best – that probably says what she wants to say and doesn’t include-“ Harry stopped.

“What? What was she sending you?”

“Luna stuff,” Harry waved her off.

He didn’t think he had convinced her, but he had done all he could do.

They settled back into Hogwarts life. Harry struggled to adjust to waking before noon and even more to eating at set times. He had gotten so used to helping himself whenever he felt like it that he found himself becoming hungry all afternoon.

Draco usually crept in to the Gryffindor dormitory, rarely saying a word when he slipped under Harry’s covers and leaving at dawn. Sometimes he left notes to remind Harry to do homework. Once he left a white flower draped over Harry’s glasses.

They cornered Nott after potions on Friday in the courtyard. The weather was still warm, the last of autumn waving its exit through the clouds.

“Mate, you’ve barely said a word to us since the Hogwarts Express,” it was mainly Ron who cornered Nott. “I thought we were friends.”

“Things are difficult right now,” Nott’s eyes were darting around the corridor as it was. “Especially with Potter and Malfoy flirting constantly.”

“Oh, trust me, we could flirt more,” Draco said, snaking an arm around Harry’s shoulders and pressing him into his side.

“Can’t you two try to be a little more inconspicuous?”

“People are going to talk no matter what we do, Theo,” Draco said. “We might as well give them something to talk about.”

Harry bit his lip, holding Draco’s arm around him. He liked this – that they were on the same page. He just worried about how bad it would be for Draco. Draco was lonely. He had to be.

“I can’t tell you anything, Weasley,” Nott continued. He wasn’t looking at Harry and Draco. “I don’t  remember anything.”

“That doesn’t matter, I don’t care about that,” Ron pressed. “I just – I want to hang out.”

“You know, under the imperius curse, victims usually feel carefree and happy,” Nott said. “I wish you had left me under it.”

He turned away and joined a group of Slytherins. Pansy Parkinson looked back at them, scowled, and said something to him. He glanced back, his lips moving, and his reply made her throw her head back and cackle.

He had been avoiding them since.

Which hadn’t helped Harry’s mood as his private lessons with Dumbledore began that evening.  Draco walked with him there, pausing in front of the statue to kiss Harry goodnight and straighten his tie.

Harry let him. He still hadn’t made him his mind about Dumbledore. There was such a huge part of him that wanted to idolise him.

He squeezed Draco’s hand, then stepped onto the moving staircase.

There was a chill through the staircase and he shivered, wrapping his robes tighter around himself as he climbed the stairs. He was so rarely alone nowadays that he felt oddly bare without someone by his side. What would this lesson be like? He wasn’t sure he would even be able to talk to Dumbledore anymore.

But he was in front of the door.

He took a breath, Draco’s face still in his mind’s eye, and knocked. Harry waited until he heard the rumble of Dumbledore’s voice before he entered. It was just as it was last year – filled with whizzing and whirring devices, Fawkes staring balefully from his perch, and the headmasters lining the walls.

“Professor,” Harry said.

“Harry, please, sit,” Dumbledore waved a hand towards a spindly chair in his office. Not the blackened one, Harry noticed. “How was your summer?”

“It was good,” Harry said and took a moment to savour that feeling. The feeling of the truth – he hadn’t realised how many lies he had begun to tell. “Actually – it was really good.” He paused again. Dumbledore was smiling at him but his eyes weren’t sparkling. He wondered how far he could push this. “I really enjoyed living with Sirius. It felt like we were a family.”

“You will always have a home at Hogwarts, Harry,” Dumbledore said gently.

Harry shuffled. Hogwarts didn’t feel much like a home anymore.

Dumbledore spoke about mistakes and information and the time being ripe for Harry to know more. He sat and listened.

“But, of course, you did not care for the prophecy.”

“I just – it’s like Odysseus, isn’t it?” Harry didn’t know whether it was, but Draco had gone on and on about it, claiming the playwright was certainly a wizard. “Because they try to prevent the prophecy, the prophecy happens.”

“I believe this is a case where the more you know about the prophecy, the more prepared you are for the future,” Dumbledore continued, lacing his fingers together. Harry avoided looking at the purplish, dead nails on one of the hands. “The fact remains, Harry, that you and Lord Voldemort are deeply connected to each other. I believe that the more you know about him, the more chance we have of winning this war.”

He was doing it again – a very Draco-like voice was whispering in Harry’s ear. He was doing the thing where he put all of the pressure on Harry’s shoulders. This was all down to Harry. Harry had to know about Voldemort, or the whole world would crumble.

He wasn’t sure he believed it anymore. Maybe he was just tired of it.

“And occlumency, sir?” Harry asked.

“Occlumency?”

“Last year – you kept telling me that I need to learn occlumency, that it was really important that I kept Voldemort out  my head. Is that not important anymore?”

“Considering the events of last term, I believe there are advantages to your connection with Lord Voldemort, provided we are careful with the information that he knows.” Dumbledore said.

“Professor Dumbledore, Mr Weasley is dead because he got in my head.”

“It was an unfortunate loss, yes.”

Harry had been so unprepared that he was at a loss for words. It was more than that. It was devastating.

But Dumbledore didn’t seem to care. He was up and searching in one of his cabinets, leaving Harry staring at the desk. He couldn’t go along with this plan. He would go to these lessons, he would learn what Dumbledore wanted him to, but he wouldn’t forgo Occlumency. He had to have some kind of defence – some protection against Voldemort rooting around in his mind. Not just for himself, but for his friends too. For Draco too.

Dumbledore set the pensieve gently down in front of them whilst Harry made up his mind.

The lesson begun.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N): SO I MISSED AN UPDATE.
> 
> Honestly I was feeling very overwhelmed and put it to the week after and then had so much work to catch up on that I put it on to the week after, but I finished it today. I've had writer's block with my short stories assignment, but I can kid myself that this is important to work on too.
> 
> I basically gave myself burn out. I was working on this fic and my webcomic over summer just fine but it was too much with university work and basically being the only one to tidy my uni house that I mentally broke down. I would like to say that I feel a lot better, but honestly I think I'm still toeing the line of absolute breakdown.
> 
> And it's only going to get worse as assignment period comes around.
> 
> So hopefully I will see you all again soon. My activities will let you know how I'm doing.
> 
> Thanks to you all - especially the people who told me to take my time and take care of myself! I very seldom follow that advice, but it means the world to me!
> 
> <3 xx
> 
> Tumblr: steamcogsandwebcomics.tumblr.com/ 
> 
> Instagram: www.instagram.com/turntups/


	5. Chapter 5

5

Harry had no idea how knowing Voldemort’s farther was under a love potion when he was born was going to help him defeat him. He wasn’t sure how knowing about the House of Gaunt was going to help either. And he definitely didn’t know why Dumbledore didn’t just tell him all of this – he needed to know the plan, surely.

It didn’t help his mood, especially during the Quidditch trials. Giggling girls and silly second years and - it was just all constant.

He was glad Hermione was gushing over Ron, because he couldn't tune into the Quidditch babble. He just smiled vaguely and tried to tune in. He had missed this. He had missed flying, the wind pressing against his face and the broom underneath his hands like an extension of himself. He missed the adrenaline of the Quidditch match, the sweat and the tension in his muscles.

So why couldn't he enjoy it now?

There were suddenly hands on his hips, halting him in his tracks. It was hardly a moment later that he felt the familiar weight of Draco's chin against his shoulder.

"Hey, Captain," Draco's voice was in his ear.

Harry leant against him, though he felt a prickle run up his back. They were in full view of everyone. Everyone could see the two of them here.

"We're going to Hagrid's, Harry," Hermione said, pointedly ignoring Draco draped around him. "We thought we'd better apologise for not taking his NEWT."

"And why should you apologize to that oaf, anyway?" Draco said.

"He's my friend," Harry said. "He's not an oaf." Draco made a noncommittal grunt, his fingers tightening on Harry's waist. "You two go ahead, I'll catch up."

Ron rolled his eyes at Hermione and, in a strange moment of understanding, she rolled hers back. She gave Harry a last look, a 'this is more important than your boyfriend' look, before she headed off with Ron.

“I have to go,” Harry turned into Draco. They were so close that his glasses almost bumped against Draco’s nose.

“You just said you’ll catch up.”

“Yeah – I – I want to go to Hagrid alone.” He was acutely aware that groups of students were slowing down to watch them. Including Cormac McLaggen.

Draco frowned. It may have been annoyance, disappointment, or, dare Harry suggest it, jealousy. It was clear he was not happy, but he was no stranger to making Draco Malfoy unhappy.

“I don’t understand it,” he said and there was an edge to his voice. “I don’t get your obsession with him.”

“He was the first wizard I ever met,” Harry’s fingers were tangled into Draco’s. He was trying very hard to do what he was doing and ignore the rest of the world. “He was the first person who ever cared about me – well, since my parents. Hell, he was the first person to buy me a birthday cake.”

Draco still didn’t look like he understood. But he did wet his finger and wipe a streak of mud from Harry’s cheek.

“Okay, Harry,” he said.

Harry smiled gratefully, and then, because Cormac McLaggen was still gawping at them, gave Draco a kiss on the cheek.

He walked back across the pitch, hardly able to contain his smile. Harry had decided he was fed up of the staring and the whispers. Draco was right – if they were going to talk – they might as well give them something to talk about. He couldn’t find it in him to be hesitant about it any longer.

It was, as Draco would say a ‘classic Gryffindor’ move.

Harry took his time to get to Hagrid’s. He didn’t want to run in to Ron and Hermione leaving, but he also appreciated the time to himself. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been left with his own thoughts. Usually it was a relief, usually his own thoughts were scary, but now they were ringing with Draco calling him ‘Captain’ and the swoop the word had made his stomach do.

Hagrid. He needed to think about Hagrid. What was he going to say to Hagrid?

By the time he was standing on the half-giant’s doorstep, he still hadn’t thought of it. The question just kept spinning around and around in his head, so that when Hagrid opened the door, all he could come out with was “hi.”

Hagrid took one look at him, then closed the door.

It spurred Harry into action, He pounded on the door with his fist. “Hagrid! I have to talk to you!”

“Jus’ had Hermione and Ron ‘ere. They explained everythin’, Potter. Yer can stay out there.”

Harry had half a mind to blow the bloody door right open.

“Please, _sir_.” Harry said. “I really have to talk to you, _sir._ ”

It had the desired effect. Hagrid was cracking the door back open and staring at him with wide eyes.

“Since when have _you_ called me Sir?”

“Since when have you called me Potter?” Harry replied. He softened his tone. “I didn’t want to come with Ron and Hermione. I wanted to talk to you alone.”

Hagrid raised his bushy eyebrows, but he stepped aside enough for Harry to slip through the doorway. He half-fell into one of the spindly chairs, finding his lap occupied immediately by Fang. A drooling fang, which made him miss Sirius all the more. Sirius never dribbled on him.

The half-giant remained silent as he poured tea into two huge cups, pushing one towards Harry without meeting his eyes. Then he sat, in silence, staring into the teacup.

“I’m sorry I didn’t take the Care of Magical Creatures NEWT,” Harry said. “I want to become an auror, Hagrid, and I didn’t think I could manage it. Not now that I have to take potions for an extra two years as well.”

He might well have gone on to explain about the mysterious book to Hagrid, but he received only a disinterested grunt in response. He stayed quiet then, cradling his tea. Something was wrong – something was very wrong. He had messed up somehow.

“What are they for?” Harry gestured to the large grubs in a barrel in the corner of the room. They writhed like maggots and made him feel queasy.

“Do yer know wha’ Ron and Hermione told me, ‘Arry?” Hagrid still wasn’t looking at him. “They sai you didn’t come ‘cos you were with Draco Malfoy.”

“I bet they did,” Harry suddenly realised the problem. “Hagrid I told them I’d catch up with them because I wanted to talk to you alone.”

“Draco Malfoy?” Hagrid repeated. “That’s the guttersnipe who tried to get poor Buckbeak killed – succeeded too, if it hadn’t been fer Hermione’s time-turner. What are yer doing with _him_?”

“I love him.” Harry said, and even though Hagrid stared at him incredulously, maybe with a little horror, the words felt like honey dripping from his tongue.

“Yer hate him. Yer used to.”

“Yeah,” Harry said. He stared into his tea. “I’m not quite sure how it happened either, Hagrid. But I love him.”

 _“Him?_ ”

“Him.”

“But he’s-“

“I know,” Harry sighed, pulling his fringe back from his face, then letting it flop back. “I know. He’s done a lot of shit.”

Harry explained about the Chamber of Secrets, about just how Hermione had come across the page with the Basilisk on. He explained about last year, how Draco had found him out in the cold and had bandaged up his hand.

He explained how it was all his fault that Draco was a werewolf now and that he didn’t know what to do about it.

“So yer’ve come to me about it?”

“I came to you because I wanted you to know. I know it’s been – it’s long overdue, but – I couldn’t – I didn’t know how to find the words.”

“Or the time?”

“Classes, DA lessions, Occlumency lessons – I barely had time to breathe.”

Hagrid’s beard at last twitched in an approximation of a smile. “Well, yeh both either very brave, or very stupid.”

“We didn’t mean for it to go public.” Harry said. His voice suddenly felt very small. “Are you really angry at me, Hagrid?”

Hagrid took a long breath, it ruffled his beard. Harry’s heart was pounding – just as quickly as when he had come out to Sirius.

“I’m not angry at yer, Harry,” he said, finally. “I jus’ wish yeh’d of told me.”

“I didn’t know _how_ ,” Harry said. “Everyone around me was arguing about it and giving me all this hassle – and I should have told Ron first – I should have told Hermione – I don’t know. I didn’t – I didn’t really want to tell people because I didn’t know myself. I had no idea what was going on, but I was meant to tell all these people in some kind of competition of who I liked the most and I could barely tell people I hated. I didn’t – I didn’t know _how_!”

His voice was cracking terribly and he had to take his hands from his tea to ball his hands into fists on his lap. He hadn’t even known he had felt that way until it all came tumbling out and now he wanted to shove it all back in and hide it away again.

But then he was caught up in moleskin and beard. Hagrid was pressing him against him so tightly that he could hardly breathe, but he had hardly been able to breathe beforehand, so this was hardly an issue.

“Yeh’ve done well,” Hagrid’s grumble came to him through mounds of hair. “Yeh’ve done well.”

Harry couldn’t help it then. He cried. He buried his face into Hagrid's coat and cried until he could barely breathe.

*

He had snuck into the castle when it was dark. Thankfully, both Ron and Hermione had already disappeared upstairs into the dormitories. Draco snuck in like a cat through the window, propping his broomstick against Harry’s bedside table and sliding in next to him. Harry pretended to be asleep, even though he wanted to turn around and bury his face into Draco’s chest.

In the morning, he was still there, his arms draped around Harry. His eyelashes cast star-like shadows on his cheeks.

What did he see in Harry? Scrawny Harry with glasses, bushy hair and a big scar in the middle of his forehead. Whereas Draco looked like a statue – a painting, not a person. He didn’t fit next to Harry. It wouldn’t just be because he was the chosen one, Draco wasn’t _that_ shallow. But he still couldn’t believe that Draco _liked_ him.

“You two won’t be able to keep this up forever, you know,” Hermione’s voice came to Harry. He glanced over to see her sat on the end of Ron’s bed, her arms crossed as she stared at them.

“Snape doesn’t care,” Harry said, though his face was burning. He pulled the covers further up the two of them. Didn’t Hermione have any shame?

“Did he say that?” Hermione’s voice was cutting so early.

“Basically,” Harry grumbled. He buried his face into Draco’s jumper. His eyes still felt swollen and heavy and he was vaguely worried that Hermione would see and read into it.

“It can’t be allowed – a Slytherin in the Gryffindor dormitory. You shouldn’t even be sharing a bed together anyway – we’re sixteen for goodness sake!”

“Hermione – shut _up_! It’s eight in the morning!” Ron grumbled.

“We have a Hogsmede trip today – you all need to start getting ready for it. You know what it’s like – by lunch everywhere’ll be packed full of third years.”

“She says this,” Draco said into Harry’s temple, his eyes still closed. “But we all know she came for the view.”

Harry giggled into him.

“I am _not_. I’m telling the both of you that you need to stop this.”

Draco sat up then, leaving Harry in a heap on the mattress. His hair was ruffled, but his eyes weren’t sleepy as he stared at Hermione.

“Do you know what would happen if I stayed in my own dorm, Granger?” his voice had that soft, dangerous tone of voice. “I think they’d probably start with a whole body-bind curse – then they could all get at me with no problem. It’s easy to kick a frozen target.”

Harry pulled himself upright, tangled in his duvet. He pressed his forehead against Draco’s shoulder, his head pounding. He need a coffee. He needed caffeine and a good half hour before he was ready to talk to anyone. Draco’s hand buried itself into Harry’s curls, almost like he was stroking a dog.

“He’s right, Hermione,” Seamus was saying. He was just a bundle of blankets. “There’s a reason we haven’t made a song and dance about it.”

“Yeah, no sense in getting lynched,” Dean said from his bunk.

“By the way – we’re not a motel,” Seamus continued. “It’s all very well and good Draco staying here – he makes no noise, but if you have to stay, Hermione-“

“Could you at least be quiet?”

“I didn’t _stay_.” Hermione sounded horrified by the idea. “What would McGonagall say, if she knew Draco was sleeping here every night?”

Harry shrugged and sighed.

“The one night that Potter’s not pouring over that stupid book and you have to come in and ruin it,” Draco said. “Actually, Potter are you alright?”

“Tired,” Harry mumbled, but his hand found Draco’s under the duvet and he squeezed his fingers. No. He wasn’t okay, but he wasn’t about to bring it up in front of everyone.

“If we _must_ get up now, can you shift?” Ron nudged Hermione with his long feet. “Unless you want us all to start getting dressed in front of you.”

Hermione scowled, her face turning crimson. “Half an hour,” she said, before turning and scurrying from the room, her hair behind her like a curly banner.

“What happened?” Draco whispered into Harry’s hair.

“I just – Hagrid,” Harry replied.

“Was he not okay with it?” the others were moving around them, searching the floor of discarded clothes for something clean to wear.

“He was fine with it. That was it.”

Harry wasn’t sure Draco understood, but he did squeeze Harry’s shoulders before he slipped from the bed. “I’m wearing your clothes, by the way.”

“Can’t you get your own trunk up here?” Harry said, wiggling out of his huge pyjama top.

“I’ll ask Nott,” Draco put his hands on Harry’s shoulders to stop him moving. He kissed the side of Harry’s neck, then pulled away, riffling down Harry’s trunk.

Forty minutes, just to spite Hermione, later, they were all trundling down to the entrance hall, yawning and stretching. Seamus and Dean’s words played over and over again in Harry’s mind. Maybe they were being reckless. It was Harry’s fault that they were out, anyway. If he’d been a little more careful, then maybe they could still be a secret. Everything would be as it was. Sure, they’d have to sneak around again, but that must have been better than Draco tip-toeing around his house.

He missed his friends. Harry could tell by the way Draco glanced over at the Slytherin table. He missed being the house favourite – the one that everyone looked up to and followed. Now it was like he had a target on his back.

And it was Harry’s fault. Just another part of Draco Malfoy’s life that he had completely and utterly ruined.

He sighed and Draco’s fingers found his like a reflex. Draco – who was wearing one of Harry’s – Dudley’s – awful jumpers and somehow pulling it off perfectly. He was talking to Ron, seriously, for once.

“Nott says he wants to hang out with you. He says you could meet in the Room of Requirement or something.”

“So he wants to hang out with me, but he doesn’t want anyone to know?”

“Can you blame him? He’s got his own skin to look out for.”

“What about your skin?”

“Oh, I’m a lost cause,” Draco said. It made Ron laugh, but a twinge of guilt run through Harry. “He also said, Granger, that Zabini’s been bragging about his family in the Common Room.”

“So?” Hermione sniffed. She was pointedly not looking at them – a treatment Harry was used to whenever he ignored her warnings.

“So his family are Death Eaters. Apparently, they’ve been snuggling right into the Dark Lord’s side in my father’s absence. He thinks he’s father’s going to trust him with something big.”

“That’s hardly having the Dark Mark tattoed on his arm,” Ron said as they slid onto the bench in the Entrance Hall. Hardly anyone else was up so early on a Saturday.

“But that’s two Death Eaters who are trying to get their sons involved in something,” Harry said.

“You know Potter, I do believe you’re getting marginally smarter.” Draco had that infuriating smirk on his face.

“Shut up, Malfoy.”

“Make me.”

“It’s just like the old days,” Ron said blissfully. He was either butchering or buttering his crossaint – Harry couldn’t tell. “I don’t know whether you’re going to snog or murder each other.”

“All that shows is that Voldemort wants something done at Hogwarts. That could be anything. It’s probably to spy on Harry – since he’s an occlumens now.” Hermione said. She had that patronising tone of hers own.

“I’m _something_ of an occlumens,” Harry muttered, because he had hardly been practising lately.

“He’s terrible. If he didn’t have me, he’d be dead.”

Harry rolled his eyes, helping himself to a roll.

“It can’t be anything all that important. Not if he’s relying on a sixteen year old.”

“There is nothing more dangerous than a teenager trying to prove themselves,” Draco said, quietly. Harry stared at him, a chill running down his spine. It made him nervous. There was something going on – some conspiracy at Hogwarts. He had no idea who the target was. Himself was an obvious one, and not Voldemort’s style. Every time they had met he had wanted to kill Harry himself. It could be Draco – he had left Voldemort – but he had been punished for it.

Harry glanced up at the table of teachers. Dumbledore’s place was empty. It was like that more often than not nowadays – which suited Harry fine. He hated the twisted feeling in his gut that came whenever he looked at Dumbledore – like he was betraying him by not liking him as much anymore.

Dumbledore – who’s hand was black and dead from searching into Voldemort’s past.

But killing Dumbledore would be stupid – impossible and meaningless. Certainly not something a sixteen year old could do.

On the other hand, Harry figured that it would be something more than simply spying. What was Zabini going to report back? That Harry was now somehow good at potions? What use was that?

No, it was something else. It had to be something else.

Another chill ran down his back. Draco. Maybe it was to reveal Draco as a werewolf. The shame it would bring upon the Malfoys – the fear it would insight at Hogwarts. Lupin had been bad enough – what would happen if it was Draco?

He was so deep into his thought process that he jumped when Slughorn cornered them in Honeydukes. If he noticed Harry and Draco’s interlocking hands, he didn’t mention it. He was too focused on the Slug Club’s little suppers – which, up till now, Harry had been purposefully avoiding. He had thought it a favour to everyone on the Quidditch team that he was scheduling practice at the same times.

And now Dumbledore of all people helped him wiggle out of another one. The diving into Voldemort’s past had never seemed such a cheery prospect.

It, of course, annoyed Hermione to no end, but Harry just shrugged and said “it’s hard being the chosen one.”

“Why can’t you take that more seriously, Harry? The prophecy is not a _joke_!”

Ron was pretending to be entranced by the extra large sugar quills and Harry envied him.

“I’d rather treat the prophecy as a joke,” Harry said. “ _Trelawny_ made it, for crying out loud.”

“What was it, anyway?” Hermione pressed. She folded her arms as she looked at him.

He felt slightly guilty for not telling them – for not even telling Draco. Not enough, however, to break the news to them now. Harry had to kill Voldemort, or Voldemort would kill Harry. Neither could live while the other survived. Which Harry thought was unnecessary anyway. He wasn’t particularly bothered if Voldemort lived. It was Voldemort who was hunting him down, trying to kill _Harry_. If he’d just leave him alone and crawl into a hole, they could both survive quite happily.

Draco was the one who picked up on Harry’s reluctance to share. Then again, there were plenty of things that Draco didn’t share. Harry never asked about werewolf stuff, if Draco never asked about prophecy stuff.

“Come on, Potter, we need to get potion supplies,” he tugged on Harry’s hand. “We need to get brewing on that thing right away.”

“We’ll catch up with you in the Three Broomsticks, yeah?” Harry said over his shoulder, as they stepped back out into the bitingly cold air. His breath appeared in puffs of smoke in front of him. It would be cool to be a dragon – to be able to create fire in your mouth whenever anything got too cold. “Draco, have you decided what you’re going to do about – you know,” Harry wasn’t as smooth at lying as Draco was. “The thing.”

“Yeah,” he said. “You’ll show me to the Shrieking Shack and I’ll stay there overnight.”

“You won’t let me come with you?”

“No.”

They were outside J Pippin’s Potions now and Harry paused in the threshold, staring at Draco over the rim of his glasses.

“I’m coming with you.”

“You’re not,” Draco barely glanced at him, swanning into the shop like he owned the place.

“And how are you going to stop me?”

Draco turned back to him, smirking.

“I’ll lock you in your tower, Princess Potter.”

Harry’s body did the two things it always did when Draco used that tone of voice – his stomach leapt and his face flushed with heat.

“I’d like to see you try,” he muttered, but resorted to moodily watching Draco gathering the ingredients for the wolfsbane potion. They were expensive – very expensive, but Draco hardly seemed to bat an eyelid at it. The Malfoys were probably even richer than the Potters.

They joined up with Hermione and Ron at The Three Broomsticks, entering to find them arguing and leaving with them still arguing. Harry was starting to realise how infuriating that was. No wonder they had got bored of him slagging off Draco Malfoy for four and a half years.

Could that mean that Ron and Hermione-

No, the idea was too weird for Harry’s brain to comprehend. He pushed it firmly to the back of his mind as they headed back up the road to Hogwarts, Draco’s arm was in his. Hermione had forgiven, or chosen to forget, the spat this morning, and had linked her arm in with his other arm. She paused a moment, then took Ron’s arm too.

And for a moment – for one, amazing moment, Harry felt like everything was going right. He felt like a normal teenager. A normal teenager hanging out with his normal teenage friends and his normal teenage boyfriend.

Then it all went wrong when Katie Bell started levitating and screaming like a banshee. Of course she had to find a cursed necklace, because of course.

Harry couldn’t resent her. In fact, he felt incredibly sorry for her. Her screaming face, with dark, wide eyes and a darker, wider mouth, kept appearing each time he closed his eyes. He hoped she was okay.

He envied the other students, the one who could just be scared and visit her in the Hospital Wing later. They didn’t have to look that much into it.

Harry, on the other hand, had to think about finding a replacement for the Quidditch team. He was subjected to a two hour analysis of who it could have possibly been and why. Why would anyone care about Katie Bell? No offence to her, but everybody got on with her and she just didn’t seem like a target.

But who on earth could the necklace be for? Did Voldemort – because it had to be Voldemort – really think Harry or Draco would want an opal necklace?

Then again, he had come dangerously close to touching it.

The thought made him shudder. He pulled Draco closer to him.

*

“Of course there’s a bloody full moon on Halloween and of course you’re stupid enough to follow a werewolf into the Shrieking Shack,” Ginny hissed at Harry. She was splattered from head to toe in mud from Quidditch practice.

“That werewolf is my boyfriend, Ginny,” Harry pushed his own mud-covered hair out of his eyes. His glasses were streaked and smeared. “What does it matter to you anyway?”

“ _Because_ I think that Luna’s planning something on Halloween.”

“Just – hear her out,” Harry said. “You might have a pleasant surprise.”

“Yeah, not likely,” Ginny muttered darkly.

There was a shadow leaning on the doorframe of the Entrance Hall. Harry didn’t even need to glance up as they passed to know who it was, or that he would inevitably trail up the stairs after  them.

“Malfoy – Harry’s determined to follow you tomorrow night,” Ginny said, as soon as they had entered the castle.

Draco took hold of Harry’s chin, forcing him to look around and meet his steely eyes.

“No,” he said firmly.

Harry stuck his tongue out at him. “It would be completely safe. You’ve been taking wolfsbane.”

“You’ve never seen me as a werewolf before and you’re not about to start now,” Draco stormed up the stairs before them.

“This is all your fault,” Harry muttered to Ginny. “He wasn’t even going to know until it was too late.”

“Looks like you’ll have to spend Halloween keeping me company,” she said, with a wolfish smile of her own on her face.

“Okay then,” Harry said to Draco, hopping up the stairs in twos. “I won’t see you. Blindfold me.”

Ginny coughed behind them and Harry realised what he’d just said. He thought he was going to burst into flames right there.

“As much as I’d love to, Potter, I’d like to be human for that.”

“I won’t tell you how to get into the Shrieking _Shack_ ,” Harry ignored that last remark, even though it made all of his internal organs twitch.

“You already have. Secret passage under the Whomping Willow.”

“And now I know where to stop you from sloping off to,” Ginny said smugly.

“What do you want with my Potter?” Draco asked. No one seemed to be making a big deal of the ‘my’ part. Harry thought they should.

“She’s avoiding Luna.”

“ _Sacre bleau,_ she’s _into_ you, Weasley. If you keep doing this, you’ll get treated to some of the _really_ bad poetry.”

“You’re lying.”

“Try me,” Draco shot back. He smirked. “Unless you’re too _scared_.”

And that was it. The magic words that made Ginny flush scarlett and decide she didn’t need Harry to hang around her on Halloween night. She was still fidgety all day, fiddling with her hair and chewing her thumbnails down to the quicks, but she was ready to face Luna Lovegood. That would be the end of it, Harry supposed. He wouldn’t have to be the go-between anymore. It made him almost sad.

Of course, Harry had plans of his own. He slipped Ron a chocolate galleon during herbology, and told him to tell Draco he had gone to bed early. It was unlikely that Draco would believe him, but Ron promised to shove some pillows under Harry’s duvet.

He had smuggled some food into his bag at lunch and as soon as herbology finished, he set off across the grounds. T   he sky was already a bruised purple and it was so cold that everyone was hurrying back to their common rooms – into the warmth.

Harry cast _immobolis_ on the Whomping Willow, hoping that no one was paying that close attention to him. He scurried into the passage as quickly as he could, his feet slipping on the mud.

The Shrieking Shack was just as he remembered it; covered in dust, creaking ominously and very dark. He paused as he stepped into the derelict house. There were footsteps in the passage behind him.

He froze, his hand going to his wand. Every muscle in his body was tightening. The footsteps were closer – they had been right behind him.

Harry was about to spin, about to whip his wand from his pocket and cast _stupefy._

Then hands covered his eyes and he exhaled. He could smell cinnamon.

“Fancy seeing you here,” a voice said, right next to his ear. It made the hairs on the back of Harry’s neck tingle.

“Draco,” Harry said. Now he realised how stupid he’d been – of course it would be Draco? Who else could it have been?

“I specifically told you no,” Draco said, dropping his hands to wrap his arms around Harry’s waist, resting his head in the middle of Harry’s back.

Harry shrugged. “You’re here early.”

“Mm. I was going to stop you from getting here.”

“I was here early to stop you from stopping me.”

“You’re a nightmare, Harry. I hate you.”

“You hate me enough to call me Harry, though,” Harry twisted around so that he could press his forehead against Draco’s. He kissed him, but he was grinning too hard to do it properly.

“It’s not funny,” Draco didn’t kiss back. He was scowling at Harry, his eyes livid. It sobered Harry.

“I’m here because I love you,” he said, his hands cupping Draco’s face, his thumbs tracing Draco’s cheekbones.

“I could kill you,” Draco whispered, his fingers digging into Harry’s hips.

“But you won’t,” Harry whispered back. “You know you won’t.”

Draco sighed, closing his eyes. He let himself slip out of Harry’s grip, stepping away from him just as Harry went to kiss him.

“I transform upstairs. You stay here. No arguing.” Draco said.

“Okay,” Harry’s voice was very small. “Draco, I-“

Draco shook his head. He didn’t say anything, and Harry knew he was in the doghouse – in more ways than one.

It was a tense few hours as they waited for the moon to raise. Usually, it wouldn’t be a problem. Sure, Draco would probably insist on dusting instead of kissing, but Harry could even suffer that if he even looked at Harry.

But he hadn’t told him to go home. So there was some hope.

Draco disappeared upstairs when it was almost pitch-black. Harry stayed sat on a rickety chair like he was told.

It was worse than he’d thought it would be. Hearing every grunt of pain and every pop of bones. Draco cried out at one point and Harry thought that he would rip the stuffing from the chair. He gritted his teeth so hard that he thought he was going to develop lockjaw.

He wasn’t sure how long it took before the sounds stopped. Before he heard the sound of claws on the floorboards.

Harry wasn’t sure he wanted to see. Now that he was here he felt sick.

But he had wanted to do this. He had made Draco mad at him because he had wanted to do this.

So he forced himself to stand at the bottom of stairs.

“Draco?” he called. No answer. He didn’t expect one. “I’m coming up.”

He took the stairs slowly, each one creaking ominously under his feet. As he got closer to the top of the staircase he could hear the pacing. The snuffle of a dog’s breathing.

Draco was a pale shape in the darkness. He looked more like a wolf than Harry thought he would – he had been expecting some sort of _American Werewolf in London_ nightmare. But Draco just looked like a pale grey wolf, with a shorter snout, of course, and he still had those piercing grey eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Harry murmured. He crouched at the top of the stairs. “I’m sorry for coming, but I couldn’t leave you here alone. Not here, Draco.” He was sure wolf-Draco rolled his eyes and he smiled slightly. “Do you forgive me?”

He was sure that earned him another eye roll, but Draco stepped forward and pressed his head against Harry’s, resting his snout on Harry’s shoulder.

Harry put his arms around the wolf, burying his face into Draco’s shoulder and feeling the guilt wash through him over and over again.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “It’s all my fault.”

Draco shook himself out of Harry’s arms and shook his head again. Harry blinked at him and received a third wolf eye roll.

Then he was flickered in the face by Draco’s tail as he stalked across the room. He leapt onto the creaking bed and curled up comfortably, watching Harry over the top of his tail.

Harry guessed that meant it was time to sleep. He lowered himself onto the mattress carefully, sure that it was infested with bed bugs. But he had wanted to do this, so he sat carefully.

Draco huffed at him.

“What?” Harry asked.

Draco huffed again, then, making the whole bed bounce up and down, half-leapt into Harry’s arms. Harry was knocked backwards, his arms full of fur. Wolf-Draco was heavy, it felt as though his ribs were being crushed. But Draco was in his arms. As a wolf. His breathing was calming against Harry’s stomach, and his fur still smelt of cinnamon.

And that was how Harry spent Halloween night, lying in the Shrieking Shack with his werewolf boyfriend, Draco Malfoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N): I've confused myself with my update schedule - but, you know, here's this. It could probably do with a read through but it's I'm A Celebrity Get Me Out of Here season in the UK and it's taken over my life..
> 
> So, I'm going to go to bed.
> 
> My mental health is actually a lot better now - I feel a lot more on top of things and I want to be creative in my spare time. I've for some reason stopped picking up my phone to play games on it and I've been incredibly productive. (And enjoying it!) Of course, when it comes to being an adult, I have checked out. I have been eating pre-made pasta from a tin.
> 
> Thank you so so much for all of the supportive messages! I really really appreciate them! I love you all and sleep well. xx
> 
> Instagram: www.instagram.com/turntups/  
> Tumblr: Turnupsdrawssometimes  
> Webcomic: https://www.webtoons.com/en/challenge/in-his-shadow/page-fifty-four/viewer?title_no=226226&episode_no=57


	6. 6

6

When Harry woke up, Draco was already dressed. He sat at the end of the musty bed in his school uniform, the tie and top buttons undone. He looked even paler than normal, his face glistening with sweat.

Harry shifted upright, making each spring pop as he did so. Draco glanced at him.

“I’m still furious with you,” he said.

“But you know what, Draco?” Harry said.

Draco paused. For a moment, it looked as though he was going to ignore Harry. Then, “what?”

“You didn’t kill me.”

Draco gave him another glance, then stood – making he whole bed shift and bounce. He walked over to the smeared window. Hogsmeade was a little brown blur inside it.

“I told you not to come. You deliberately-“

“Draco, when have I ever done anything you told me to do?” Harry said, he slipped off the bed, but froze in his tracks when Draco turned to him, his lip curled.

“You’re infuriating, Potter,” he said, stalking back towards him. The floorboards creaked and groaned and dust trickled down from the ceiling. “You’re so utterly-“ he grabbed Harry’s face. “Infuriating,” he kissed him, messily, his teeth and tongue clacking against Harry’s. “I hate-“ Harry fell back against the bed, a spring poking him in the back. “You – so much!”

Draco was over him, his hands either side of Harry’s head and his hair falling across his face. His heart was racing, his chest felt like it was burning.

“Oh yeah, Malfoy? And what are you going to do about it?” Harry smirked, but he barely had time to finish his sentence before Draco’s tongue was in his mouth. He pushed back, grabbing fistfuls of Draco’s shirt. His glasses were half on his face, and as Draco cupped his face, they fell onto the dusty duvet and he didn’t give it a second thought.

“I’m going to-“ Draco paused, his saliva still joining their mouths. “Show everyone,” he dragged the tip of his tongue across Harry’s jaw, making him shudder. “What a _petite merde_ ,” his mouth was on Harry’s neck, just above his butterfly-wing pulse. “You are.” His bit down on Harry’s neck, sucking at the skin there.

Harry bit his lip, his fingers buried in Draco’s school shirt. Draco rolled the skin in his teeth, his hands finding the hem of Harry’s school jumper. Harry wiggled out of it, throwing it on the floor somewhere behind him and helping Draco fumble with the first two buttons on his school shirt.

Draco moved on to attack Harry’s collarbone with sharp, long bites that sent electricity threw him and made his breath catch in the back of his throat. Harry laid back, his eyes half-closed and a smile on his face, letting his fingers explore Draco’s hair. This was heaven, surely.

“Stop smiling,” Draco’s move was on the hollow of his collarbone, his voice reverberating throughout Harry’s body. “This is a hate make-out.”

“I’m fine with that,” Harry sighed, pushing his fringe off of his forehead.

Draco hovered above him, one thin eyebrow raised.

“I love you,” Harry said. He was hardly aware of what he was saying.

“Stop,” Draco murmured, burying his face back into Harry’s neck, kissing the just bruised skin tenderly now. “ _Stop_ being so cute when I’m mad at you.”

“You’re beautiful,” Harry pressed his face against Draco’s ear. “You’re so beautiful.”

“I’m not,” Draco sighed, letting his weight fall against Harry. “Not like this.”

“Always,” Harry’s fingers stroked Draco’s hair, like he was toying with it. “You’re always so beautiful.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I’m your idiot.”

Draco worked on another love bite with the demeanor of a disgruntled cat. “I love my idiot,” he pulled away suddenly, examining Harry with grey eyes, before kissing his nose. “Put your clothes back on before you get bitten to death by fleas.” He clambered off of Harry, pink tinging his cheeks.

“You mean you have fleas now?” Harry asked, picking himself up and searching for his glasses. Draco pushed them onto his face, carefully, then seized Harry’s collar and kissed him roughly again.

“You’re not half as funny as you think you are,” he muttered, buttoning his shirt the rest of the way and starting to tie his tie.

“Then why are you smiling?” Harry focused on fixing his own shirt, but paused as Draco glanced across at him.

“Because I love you.”

“You don’t hate me anymore?”

“I’ve kissed it all out.”

“Shame,” Harry sniffed. “I like it when you hate me.”

“Come on, trouble,” Draco took Harry’s hand to pull him off of the bed. He frowned. “Where’s your tie?”

Harry shrugged. “I didn’t wear it.”

“I’ll take house points away from Gryffindor if I see you without it again,” Draco said. He nudged his hip against Harry’s as he stepped past him.

“I’m sure you can find a more creative punishment,” Harry replied. He hardly believed that the words were coming out of his mouth, but this didn’t seem real. It was a dream. He felt drunk – lightheaded and warm and he just couldn’t stop grinning.

“I’m sure I can,” Draco said. He paused to pick up Harry’s jumper, tossing it over his head. “Come on, they’ll be wondering where we’ve got to.”

“Am I allowed to come back tonight?” Harry asked, lifting the jumper so that he could see.

“Maybe,” Draco said. “If you wear your tie to class.”

Harry laughed, slipping his hand into Draco’s and nudging against him as they walked back down the stairs. Draco had to step ahead of him, the stairs were so narrow they were almost tripping over each other.

Draco stopped at the bottom of the stairs. He wasn’t looking at Harry.

“You’re beautiful, you know,” he said.

Harry froze. His first instinct had been to laugh. His second had been to let his heart calm down from the marathon it had evidently won, at the rate it was beating. His third was to step around Draco to see his face, because he must have at _least_ been smirking, but Draco turned away, pointedly not looking at Harry.

“What?” Harry asked.

“I said you’re beautiful, you moron.”

“I’m not,” Harry said. He started walking over to the passage. “I’m – scrawny and scarred and – just, not.”

“Who told you that?” There was Draco’s hand. Back in his.

“No one. No one _needs_ to tell me that,” it was Harry’s turn not to look at Draco.

“It was those muggles, wasn’t it?”

Harry was silent. He continued walking through the dark passage, but Draco stood still, pulling Harry’s hand so that he had to stop.

“Harry,” he whispered. “Look at me.”

Harry didn’t. He waited until Draco stepped around him and took his face in his hands.

“I know it’s just because I’m the Chosen One,” Harry said.

“ _Mon dieu_ , it’s not,” Draco said, his thumbs tracing Harry’s cheekbones. “You’re handsome, Potter. You’re courageous to a fault and you are so much more than what the Prophet is saying about you.”

Harry felt his throat go tight. He swallowed heavily, letting his face fall from Draco’s hands and onto his shoulder. He wanted to believe the words – he was desperate to believe the words, but he couldn’t. There was something in him telling him to never, ever believe them.

He hugged Draco close for a moment, then pulled away and attempted a smile. “we should get back to Hogwarts.”

Draco dropped the subject, but he slipped his fingers into Harry’s and leant against him like a cat. He was forgiven for last night, at least.

They slipped into the Entrance Hall as breakfast was still being served. There weren't many people in the hall, not at this time on a weekday. He could feel Snape's eyes on them and he was sure that he knew.

That was fine, they slipped onto the end of the Gryffindor table and helped themselves to pastries. Draco didn't eat much. Harry didn't say anything about it.

The day passed and no one seemed to notice that Harry and Draco had been missing all night. Nott asked if Draco was okay - very quickly, as they waited to go into potions. He said Draco looked pale. Draco just shrugged and smirked and started talking about their charms homework. For a good thirty seconds, it was just like it had been last year, for those few months where Nott was part of the DA.

Then Blaise Zabini turned the corner and Nott stepped away, leaning against the Slytherin wall of the corridor. The moment was gone. They went to potions, leaving with sweaty faces and heavy hearts. Why did every potion this year seem three times as complicated as they were last year? Even with the Prince’s book, Harry could barely make the potions.

He had been pouring over the book, and he had found spells as well as hints for class. He had found the spell his father had used on Snape.

Which meant-

No, his father was no good at potions. It was his mother that was, Slughorn had said. She wouldn’t have given James that spell – not when he was still in his fifth-year arrogant stage.

So who had?

The puzzle kept turning itself around in Harry’s head, the pieces never quite fitting together.

It was Ginny who broke him out of his reverie. She sat down at the Gryffindor table, her face flushed pink and her hair pinned back.

“Harry, you’ll never bloody guess!” she said.

“Lovegood actually liked you all along?” Draco asked. He was toying with his food.

“I asked _Harry_ , not you – there was no way he would have got it.”

“I’m not _that_ oblivious,” Harry muttered, only to receive two sceptical glances.

“Anyway – I saw her yesterday – she was down by the lake. She sent me a message at dinner to meet her there. Everything was all silver and blue-“ and grey, Harry thought. Grey fur. He wanted to smirk at Draco, but he knew he’d receive a scowl. He was on thinner ice than ever about the werewolf situation. “-And she looked so _pretty_ with the moonlight shining on her hair – and with her skin – she looked like Artemis, I swear.”

“I know someone else who looks beautiful in the moonlight,” Harry muttered into Draco’s ear. Draco smirked, continuing to push his food around his plate.

“Stop being soppy when I’m being soppy,” Ginny snapped. “She lit that old tree up by the lake with all these tiny lights and they were reflecting on those glasses she wears. It was so _magical_. Luna ran – she actually _ran_ to me. She asked me if I was okay, you know, because of dad, and when I said no she put her arm around me and sat me down and was just – there. It was a little bit awkward – a lot awkward, but it was also really nice? I’ve missed her – I’ve missed talking to her – all summer I needed to talk to someone other than my family. But the hippogriff was in the room. She still had her arm around me when she said it – she said she loved me.”

Harry blinked. “Just like that?”

Ginny didn’t look that happy. She shrugged, biting her lip.

“Yeah. I – I said I didn’t know if I was that – that I thought I liked her but that was serious.”

“Was she okay with that?”

She shrugged. “She was Luna about it. She hummed and said that was fine, we were just at different points. It annoyed me a bit, honestly, but – I still like her, Harry. Luna started talking about the Department of Mysteries – she said it was just the shock. That she had never thought that I was-“ Ginny left the word out. She may have been one of the bravest people Harry knew, but she wasn’t _that_ brave yet. “She had always just pushed it to the back of her mind and tried not to think about me like that – so when I – and she – just didn’t know how to react.”

“So – Luna didn’t think you were gay, but she said all that stuff about being at different places?” Harry asked.

“It’s Luna, isn’t it?” she said. “You’ve got to accept it. The point is that she likes me, Harry – she _really_ likes me! I think we’re – a think we’re a thing.”

“Who’s a thing?” Ron slid onto the bench.

“Ginny and Luna,” Harry drew their names out in a sing-song.

“No. No, absolutely not,” Ron said.

“Do you have a problem, Ronald?”

“You can’t have a girlfriend – you’re fifteen!” Ron said. “You’re definitely not getting a girlfriend before me.”

“I can do whatever I want. Are you going to stop me?”

“I’m not having my little sister snogging people left, right and centre!”

“One person. One person, Ronald.”

“Fifteen, Ginny, fifteen,” they were both leaning over the table, snarling at each other.

“Just because you’re a socially awkward cretin who’s afraid to get close to anyone, doesn’t mean-“

“This isn’t about me!”

“If it’s about me it’s none of your business!” Ginny slammed her fist down onto the table, making the cutlery tremble. People looked down the table incredulously, glaring at Ginny, but not saying anything.

“It _is_ my business, Ginny,” Ron’s voice was low. He sounded like a thunderstorm approaching. “Look at what Harry and Draco went through. Look at what they’re still going through. I don’t want that to be you.”

“Well, thank you for your concern,” Ginny was talking through her teeth. “But, in case you haven’t noticed, I can look after myself!”

With that, she stood up and stalked away from the table, leaving her hair as an orange banner behind her.

There was silence at the table.

“I don’t get it,” Ron muttered, leaning back on the bench. “How did I go wrong there?”

“You told Ginny what to do,” Harry shrugged. He had deliberately stayed out of it.

“I’m her big brother – I should be allowed to look out for her,” Ron grumbled.

Harry shrugged again.

Ron sighed, resting his elbows on the table.

“Is there anyone I can say anything right to?” he asked.

“There’s us,” Harry said.

“I’ll probably say something about the wolf issue before the night is out.”

“Don’t worry, Potter’s already put his foot in that one,” Draco muttered.

Harry elbowed him, self-consciously pulling his collar over the bruises on his neck.

But Ron didn’t say anything. Harry knew he was stewing over Ginny, but he also knew that whatever he said to Ginny wouldn’t get through to her. Not now. She had made up her mind and there was no way to shift her from it.

He also knew that Ron was nervous about the upcoming Quidditch game. The team had barely improved since they had gotten together, and he knew Ron was self-conscious about how he played. The annoying thing was he was fine when Harry wasn’t watching him, but he could hardly not watch him when he _had_ to play Quidditch too.

If only there was a way to make Ron confident that he’d be fine.

And maybe there was.

*

“Sirius, I thought the mirror was only for emergencies,” Harry said. His reflection looked ghostly in the candle light they had placed on the side table at the Shrieking Shack. Draco had also spent the last half hour making sure the mattress was completely de-flead and bed bug free. The room was _almost_ liveable now.

“It is an emergency,” Sirius said. “It’s a full moon – I’m checking in on you two.”

“Yeah, we’re fine,” Harry said, then he leant forward, frowning. “Sirius – what’s that on your neck?”

“I could say the same to you,” Sirius leant back, smirking.

Harry felt his face grow hot and he pulled up his jumper to cover the marks.

“Is that Black?” Draco was suddenly clambering over the mattress. “What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine, boys,” Sirius was laughing. “I see you two are having fun.”

“I could say the same to you,” Harry said.

Sirius smirked and bit his lip and didn’t answer for a moment.

“Shrieking Shack?” he asked, leaning back on the kitchen chair at 12 Grimmauld Place.

“Of course.”

“Some things never change – hey, Moony – do you remember the shack?”

There was a pause and a clatter.

“I’d rather not.”

“You don’t miss the cockroaches? Or the spiders?”

Harry shuffled on the bed. He had been fairly used to sleeping with spiders – the cupboard under the stairs had plenty of them, but he hadn’t slept there in a while. He didn’t know how he felt about sleeping with all of them.

“You mean here’s cockroach free?” Lupin’s voice came over the mirror.

“I tell you what I miss,” Sirius’s voice became soft, his eyes fixed on somewhere above the glass of the mirror. “I miss when the nights got shorter, and we’d stumble out of the Shrieking Shack. It would be about four, or five o’clock in the morning so it was safe to go out. I miss watching the sun rise over Hogsmeade. I remember a particular morning that you-“

“Padfoot. The moon is really starting to rise now,” Lupin cut across him, but when he poked his head into the glass, Harry could see that his cheeks were red. “Bye, Harry. Bye, Draco. Be safe, okay?”

They said goodbye as Sirius turned to pout at Lupin. The image froze as the mirror broke up and Harry found himself smiling.

“He’s right, you know,” Draco murmured against Harry’s ear.

“About the sunrise over Hogsmeade?”

“Probably. About the moon coming up,” Draco said. “I’m going to go downstairs.”

He gave Harry’s hand a squeeze, going to slip off of the bed. Harry kept hold of his hand, looking up at Draco.

“I love you.”

“Yeah, I love you too, you dork,” Draco rolled his eyes and detangled himself from Harry.

That was how it was until the moon finally decided to subside. Harry would wait upstairs, clutching his sides until his nails left red marks on his skin, listening to the yells and grunts from downstairs. When they finally subsided he would listen to the claws on the stairs, and Draco would appear again. Harry once tried to scratch behind his ears and had received lip-curling and growling for his trouble. It reminded him that Draco wasn’t a dog animagus – he couldn’t get around him like he could with Sirius – he was a wolf. He was a wolf and he hated Harry knowing that.

Hermione had been shocked when, on the third day, they still hadn’t been caught. Harry had shrugged and explained that his father had never been caught. Either the teachers at Hogwarts were completely oblivious, or they knew everything and had decided to let it slide. A part of Harry wished it was the latter, no matter how awkward it would be. If it was the former, it seemed ever so likely that Voldemort would be able to sneak in under their noses. Again.

The fourth morning, Harry woke to Draco kissing him tenderly. Draco was always up before him – Harry wasn’t sure he even slept. He would be dressed before Harry was even stirring, a long sleeved school shirt hiding any scar.

It had been just like all the rest and, despite everything, Harry felt as though he was in a dream. The Shrieking Shack made Hogwarts seem very far away. It made everything fade into the background.

Just like every other morning, Draco did Harry’s tie for him, handling it as though it was something precious. He’d tighten it, then look up at Harry, smirk and kiss him again.

What was different this morning, was that when they went downstairs, Professor Snape was standing there.

Harry froze, feeling his stomach drop. Draco’s hand fell from his. He wasn’t shocked, not exactly, but he was filled with horror.

“I figured that I would find you two here,” Snape’s lip was curling in that way that had ceased to chill Harry to the bone. “Like father, like son, isn’t it? Or rather,” he took a moment to let his beetle black eyes flick between Harry and Draco. “Like Godfather, like Godson.”

Harry opened his mouth, a retort on his tongue, but Draco stepped in front of him, cutting across him. “Professor – to what do we owe the pleasure?”

“You talk like you own the place, Mr Malfoy.”

Draco shrugged, “I’ve gotten comfortable here.”

“I’m sure,” the lip was still curling. “And yet you left Potter here in one piece.”

“I’ve been brewing Wolfsbane,” Draco said, as though it wasn’t a secret at all. Maybe it wasn’t. Harry forgot that Draco had been in Snape’s pocket for the last five years. “That’s the only reason he’s here.”

Snape looked somewhat disappointed. He hadn’t moved from the doorway. Harry and Draco hadn’t moved from the staircase. It felt like a Mexican stand-off.

“Whilst I,” Snape paused as though he was unsure of the word. “Appreciate the effort you have taken not to infect your fellow students, I believe we need to have a word about your house participation.” Draco bristled then, like a dog preparing for a fight, but he kept hold of his tongue. “I notice you haven’t sat with your housemates since coming to Hogwarts.”

“I gathered my presence wasn’t wanted.” He was being so calm about this all. Harry was longing to jump in and start yelling – but this wasn’t about him. He resorted to gritting his teeth and glaring instead.

“I dare say you are correct, but you are also a _Slytherin,_ ” the word hissed off of Snape’s tongue, echoing around the empty room. “And you need to start showing loyalty to your house if you know what’s good for you. I will be forced to remove house points from you if you continue to sit…elsewhere.”

“That’s not-“ Harry’s voice escaped him.

Draco’s voice cut across his, as sharp as broken glass. “Is this related to Zabini and Nott?”

The question made Snape pause. He looked at them with the air of someone deciding whether or not to strangle a cat.

“Why do you ask?”

“I know they’re being watched by the Dark Lord. Are they reporting back to him about what house table I sit at?”

“You are _ridiculously_ full of yourself, Mr Malfoy,” Snape said. “The Dark Lord is interested in things other than you.”

“But he is interested in me?”

Snape paused again. There was a certain amount of relish on his face that turned Harry’s stomach.

“I’m sure he enjoys reporting your _condition_ back to your father.”

Harry saw Draco’s jaw clench. He was staring at Snape, but Harry couldn’t see his face from where he was standing.

“How is he?” Draco’s voice was almost a whisper.

“Surviving,” Snape’s lips quirked upwards. “I have a deal for you, Mr Malfoy.” His eyes flicked to Harry and the smile grew. “Just between us.”

Oh, he knew. He knew that made Harry bristle. He put a hand on Draco’s elbow, but he was ignored.

Draco walked across the room slowly, with all the laze and ease of a lion on the prowl. The effect was ruined by how tired he looked, as though he was in pain at just walking. He barely moved when Snape placed a hand on his shoulder, his eyes meeting Harry’s as he whispered into Draco’s ear.

Harry watched, anger pounding in every vein in his body. He hadn’t felt anger like this in a long time. This was the kind of anger he had been picking up from Voldemort last year. The kind of anger that threatened to blind him.

But then Draco was stepping away.

“Oh, and I feel it’s hardly appropriate for either of you to share a bed. If you truly require somewhere else to sleep, then I’m sure the Room of Requirement will give you somewhere to rest.”

“Of course.”

Harry’s anger froze. He felt as though an ice bucket had just been thrown over his head, freezing him to the spot.

What had Draco just said.

Snape was nodding at him. He gave Harry, still standing on the stairs, a final glance loaded with loathing. There was something else too. Satisfaction? Or triumph?

Then he was gone, his black robes fluttering behind him as though he was disappearing in a flurry of bats.

And Harry was still standing on the stairs. And Draco wasn’t looking at him.

It was almost as though they had rehearsed it. It was as though they counted down the footsteps of Snape walking away. They didn’t have to look at each other to decide they were leaving, moving side by side down the passage.

Harry was shaking, his fists clenched so tightly that his nails were close to cutting his palms. It wasn’t just the way Draco rolled over to Snape like a dog. It was the thought of not seeing him – not being able to protect him from the other Slytherins. To not see exactly what was going on, because there was no way Draco would tell him if something happened.

And how would he live with himself if something did happen? How would he not worry through the night that Draco was being cursed?

The idea of spending the night alone was suddenly very scary. Harry couldn’t remember the last time he had slept alone and he felt as though the nightmares were already creeping in on him. Like they were just waiting at the edges of his vision – waiting for him to be alone to pounce on him.

It was selfish, he knew, but he didn’t know if he could bare the thought of not turning over to bury himself into Draco whenever one of those nightmares hit.

They had just stepped outside when the anger burst.

“Bloody ridiculous-“

“Potter-“ Draco still wasn’t looking at him.

“Bloody, fucking ridiculous, does he have no clue what they would-“

“Leave it, Potter!” Draco spun, spitting the words out. His eyes blazed with grey flames. “You _never_ listen to me and I let it slide because it’s so fucking endearing but right now I need you to leave it and _actually_ do that. Just stand _down_ , alright? Don’t fight Snape on this. Don’t try to convince me not to do this. Just – don’t – or I _will_ curse you.”

Draco hadn’t threatened that – at least, not since last year. Not since before all of this. The look in his eye sobered Harry. He hadn’t even threatened that when Harry followed him to the Shrieking Shack. This was different. This was important. It sobered him.

“Okay,” he whispered. He paused, looking at Draco and hoping to see some softness there. “Tell me what Snape said to you?”

Draco’s eyes finally dropped from his. He looked down and Harry could see his chest shaking as he breathed.

“Why’s it important?” he whispered.

Harry shrugged. Because this time it’s different, he wanted to say. You’ve never been like this before.

“He said – if I ate with the Slytherins, if I stopped sleeping with you, that-“ Draco pushed his hair away from his forehead. His skin was almost translucent. “He’d brew wolfsbane for me, okay? And I trust him more to do it than myself.”

“You can’t trust Snape,” there was the anger, back in Harry’s chest as quickly as a lit flame. “He’ll probably – sabotage it, or slip poison in or something.”

“No. No, he won’t.” Draco took another shaky breath. He reached for Harry’s hand and held it in his own, his fingers tracing over the old scars. The scars that started all of this. “The Dark Lord wants my family to suffer, Potter. Death is too quick a pain for that. The longer I live as a werewolf, the more miserable my parents get.”

Harry twitched his fingers in Draco’s. “I don’t understand why any of this matters,” he said. “Are house points really that important to you?”

“Fuck no. But I am being watched, Potter, Professor Snape told me that much,” Draco said. “It’s better like this – safer.”

“Safer?” Harry echoed. His throat felt dry. It felt like a betrayal, even though he knew it wasn’t. This wasn’t Draco turning away from him.

“For my mother and father,” Draco whispered. “Please understand. Harry.”

Hearing his name in a whisper from Draco was the last straw. Harry felt teas prick the corner of his eyes, stinging like daggers. He was nodding, but he couldn’t see clearly anymore. He didn’t understand – he did, on the surface, but not any deeper. He didn’t know what it was like to want to protect his parents. His friends – Sirius and Hagrid and everyone else who had helped him, yes, but not the people he was related to. He was alone.

And he’d stay alone, because Draco had to leave. They were being separated.

They were being separated and it was Draco’s choice but it also wasn’t and that wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that they were being manipulated away like they were just pieces on a chessboard of this war. It felt like it was out of petty spite – to take one of the only things Harry still enjoyed at Hogwarts and rip it away from him.

Draco’s arms were around him, pulling him into a tight hug and burying his face against Harry’s neck. Harry held his breath so that he didn’t sob, latching his arms around Draco like he was a baby monkey.

“It will be okay,” Draco whispered. “We’ll get through this.”

Harry wanted to believe in those words. He wanted to believe in them more than anything.

But it felt like his world was shattering around him, and he wasn’t sure it could ever fix itself this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N): SO I forgot to talk about werewolves last time and then someone commented and reminded me that I actually have a reason for why wolf Draco is the way that he is and not like the wolf from the Prisoner of Azkaban movie. That reason is basically I don't like that design.  Just because it's ugly (And not like cool, scary ugly, just like - weird ugly?) and goofy looking. Like it's not that I wanted a cute werewolf, but it wasn't a scary looking werewolf either if you get me? It's just really goofy and awkward looking. (And like, I like ugly things - I'm basically Newt when it comes to weird creatures because I love all of the ugly evil ones, like wargs from LOTR and that spider-cat thing from the second Star Wars - and the red bull thing from the arena.) It's just. not a good design to me-
> 
> Especially because identifying werewolves comes up TWICE in the books and it's supposed to be HARD. The signs are stuff like 'shorter snout' and 'more human eyes.' If Lupin Werewolf from POA stood next to a wolf like?? It would be so obvious??
> 
> So that's why I changed it so that Draco was more wolf-like. Really, not like super wolfy and fluffy, but like, not that skinny abomination from the movies either. More like the American Werewolf in London Wolf (he, as in the the animatronic) looks a bit rough outside of the film when you google him but he still looks decent in it. It's a decent film, give it a watch)
> 
> ALSO there's drama in this chapter. I can kind of tell the comments will be all melodramatic and 'noooo me precious babbies' so like - hear me out - there needs to be conflict in a story for it to be interesting. We already know the story of the Half Blood Prince and I've said I have no interest in re-writing it. It seems cheap to me, so the conflict has to come from elsewhere because we all really know what's going to happen/all of the answers. 
> 
> It also works like super well with this scene that I've been trying to get in for like the last two chapters, but I ran out of words here and it would have made Harry seem like a dick before. Now it fits really well! You'll find out what I mean next time I update (hopefully next week but I'm not going to push myself on that)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> My Webcomic: www.webtoons.com/en/challenge/in-his-shadow/list?title_no=226226 (Webtoons)  
> tapas.io/series/In-His-Shadow (Tapastic)  
> My Instagram: turntups  
> My tumblrs: turnupsdrawssometimes.tumblr.com OR steamcogsandwebcomics.tumblr.com


	7. 7

7

The bruises on Harry’s neck faded too quickly for his liking, but maybe that was because he wasn’t sure how long it would be until he got more. He had told Hermione and Ron, who seemed considerably less heartbroken than he was. Hermione said it had all been a matter of time before someone put a stop to it anyway. Ron had smiled sympathetically and said he was sure they would still see enough of each other.

But, he barely saw Draco over the next week. He sat at the end of the Slytherin table, past the first years. They shot him curious glances, wondering why someone his age was sat with them. Harry watched Draco toy his food around for ten minutes, before taking his plate and slinking out of the hall.  He wasn’t the only one – he caught Nott’s eye on Draco too. Occasionally he’d smile and shrug sadly at Harry.

He hadn’t slept properly since. He’d wake up three or four times in the night, roll over and –

Stop.

The bed would suddenly feel like a gaping, empty desert. It would be cold. Draco was always so warm and _there_.

His contact with Draco had gone from all day every day to their potions lessons – and maybe ten minutes in between class if he was lucky. Hermione had said that she had found him squirrelled away in the library. He had smirked and told her that since being with Harry, his grades had been slipping.

It was an excuse, Harry knew. It was a reason to avoid him. And it was also one of the few reasons he would willingly venture into the library.

He didn’t make a thing of it, he just slipped into the chair next to Draco’s, opened the Prince’s book, and begun reading. He’d already gone through most of the notes in the margins.

“Malfoy,” he murmured.

“Potter.” Draco sighed, but his knee tapped against Harry’s. “You should be studying.”

“I need a good tutor,” Harry said. “I’m sure Professor Snape would approve of it – that was the sorting hat’s message this year – to stick together.”

“I’m not sure it meant what you’re thinking, Potter,” his knee tapped against Harry’s again. He tapped back, smiling innocently.

“I’m just asking for you to help me with my Charms essay, Malfoy. I don’t know what _you’re_ thinking.”

Draco just raised an eyebrow at him, but he lost the battle to his grin.

“I miss you,” he whispered, his hands finding Harry’s and squeezing them tightly enough to hurt.

“Me too,” Harry replied. “ _So_ much.”

“It’s better like this,” Draco said.

“Getting lynched in your Common Room?” Harry asked. He could hear the bitterness in his voice, but a small part of him found he _wanted_ Draco to hear it. It was nonsensical, but it felt like he’d chosen his house over Harry.

“No,” Draco said it a bit too quickly and a bit too forcefully for Harry’s liking. A lie. He had gotten in tune to Draco’s lies – they were obvious to him now, and he normally let them slide. This one, however, was the straw that broke his back.

“Okay,” he said, and he knew he sounded like a sulking child as he untangled himself from Draco’s hands. “Fine.”

He slipped from the bench, sensing a group of third years watching them from over their textbooks. There was a Slytherin in amongst them, Harry knew, watching them with narrowed eyes like a hawk. No doubt he would be reporting back to the others.

“Potter-“ Draco grabbed his sleeve, but he didn’t bother to stand. They received a harsh ‘sshh’ from Madame Prince and froze, but she returned to squinting at a huge tome in front of her.

“You never _tell_ me anything!” Harry hissed. “Keep your secrets.”

“Yeah, I don’t tell you because I don’t want you to burst in an _expelliarmus_ everyone in sight,” Draco hissed back. Someone tittered, and it swept across the room like a Chinese whisper. Draco glanced around them, then rolled his eyes and dragged Harry by the sleeve behind a bookshelf, so that they were hidden from sight.

“I would use something stronger if they ever thought of-“

“Just – stop, Potter!” Draco released him, with something of a push. He leant against the shelf,as though it had taken all of the energy out of him. “Running in with your bloody wand out isn’t the answer to everything!”

“Well, what else can I do?” it was such an effort to keep his voice low.  “You don’t let me _help_!”

“I don’t need it! Contrary to whatever goes on in that thick skull of yours – I can take _care_ of myself!” Draco’s eyes were like storm clouds and the storm had definitely arrived. Harry felt his heart racing, but it felt unattached from him, as if he had left it upstairs.

“I _know_ that!”

“Do you? Because you’re ready to jinx anyone who so much as _sneezes_ at me!”

“That’s _not_ true!”

“Why can’t you just admit it? You don’t even trust me to take care of myself!”

“What are you on about?”

“The Shrieking Shack, Potter. I told you I didn’t want you there – there wasn’t even any danger-“

“Exactly – it was fine-“

“I didn’t _need_ you!” Draco’s voice echoed slightly. There were more titters and another, loud and angry ‘sssh!’ Draco took a couple of breaths, looking pale. “This is my problem.”

“Yeah – yeah, it’s your problem,” Harry’s heart was right back in his chest and it was on fire. He felt like he was burning. “It’s your problem but it’s all _my_ fucking fault!”

His voice cracked like a fissure on the last word. It was like last year – when he felt like a volcano – and he had just erupted. He felt hot and itchy all over.

“That is enough language from you, Mr Potter. Leave my library if you’re not even going to _pretend_ to do work.” Madame Pince was standing over him like a vulture, glaring at him.

“Gladly,” Harry snapped.

He couldn’t meet Draco’s eye. He focused instead on his footsteps, which he knew were too loud for the library. Everyone was staring at him. It had been a scene – he had made it one, he knew – but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Harry couldn’t shake the prickly hot feeling as he stalked around the castle, trying to find somewhere to sit and stew. He couldn’t stay in one place for more than a minute.

He tried to shake the feeling of being boiled alive by heading outside. November was well under way, the wind stinging at his cheeks as he walked. The Forbidden Forest was just a dark mess of naked limbs.

The line of trees stared at Harry with dead, but all-seeing eyes. He had no idea if it was safe to go in or not.

But the shade was cool, and he could stand on the edge of the forest with his head resting against the tree bark. It was sharp against his skin, but he preferred to focus on that pain than the mess that was his insides. It felt as though someone had swirled a hot poker around his stomach.

Because he had said it. He had finally said what had been on his mind since it had happened. It had always been something he’d pushed down and away because no one normally cared about Harry Potter’s feelings. Harry Potter showed up and saved the day and that was all that mattered. All that mattered was what he did.

Everyone was watching him and watching him and Draco and all that mattered to them was actions.

Which was fine – his feelings weren’t that important. He had come to that conclusion a long time ago. The Dursley’s didn’t care what he thought – otherwise they’d have asked if he slept well. If everything was okay.

That was fine, he didn’t need to talk to anyone at Privet Drive. What would he say? All he could do was complain and that would get him down. It was better to dive into a book or game of knights v spiders. Those were friends that could understand everything without him moaning at him. And he could share those few happy moments with them.

At Hogwarts feelings didn’t really matter. Him and Ron didn’t talk about that sort of thing, and he assumed Hermione talked about it with the girls in her dorm. That was more their realm of understanding. At Hogwarts it was homework and class and figuring out the mystery that seemed to crop up every single year. It was clues and guesswork. It was just spending time with them and finally having friends. Finally having people who made him happy – something out of a picture-perfect kids book. But he didn’t talk about how he felt – because he was Harry and he was brave. Brave people didn’t talk about their feelings.

Dumbledore certainly didn’t care how he felt. He just needed Harry to win the war.

But now he’d said it. Now he’d opened up all those worms of guilt so that they could chew him up from the inside. They could multiply and consume him now.

How could he possibly be the Chosen One?

He stared at the thin trail of smoke rising from Hagrid’s chimney. The pumpkins were gone, and they made the whole place look bare and grey.

“Do you remember in first year, we had to go in there for detention?” a soft voice asked. He could see the figure out of the corner of his eye – a pale figure against a pale, dead landscape. He didn’t turn to look.

“You shat yourself and ran away at the first sign of trouble,” he muttered back. He sighed, turning into the tree he was leaning against. “How’d you know I was here?”

“I looked out the window,” Draco replied. “Only person out here without a scarf on – that’s my Potter. Come here.”

He turned back to raise his eyebrow at Draco. It was a huge effort just to lift it half an inch.

But Draco’s scarf was warm against his face, and he leant away from the tree to let it be wrapped around him. It smelt of Draco – of vanilla and cinnamon and that vaguely dog-smell he had as a wolf. He had missed that smell, so incredibly much.

“It wouldn’t do to have the Chosen One catching a cold, would it?” Draco asked. His voice was still soft.

And the anger was still simmering in Harry’s stomach. “And it makes us look like two Slytherins talking to each other.”

“Then give the scarf back.”

“No,” Harry pressed the scarf against his mouth. He was freezing, he realised, his hands frozen into claws.

Draco smiled slightly – a twitch of his mouth. He still looked soft – so soft. And so sad.

Harry had made him that sad.

“You think this is your fault,” he said, softly. His hands were still holding the very ends of the scarf. It felt like a string tying them together. “My – what’s the word Professor Snape uses? – Affliction.”

“Well, it is,” Harry said. “If I had made sure you were right next to me – if I hadn’t left you there alone – you wouldn’t be-“ he found that for once he couldn’t say it. He could barely even think it. "Shit, if I'd even been half decent at occlumency-"

"It wouldn't have changed anything," Draco said, his voice hard but his face still ridiculously gentle. " You wouldn't have beaten Bellatrix."

"If we'd been together, then we would have found the others-"

"And ran straight into the Dark Lord," Draco sighed. "Nothing would have changed. You wouldn't have been able to fight off eight Death Eaters."

"But Sirius was there - and Tonks and Lupin and Shacklebolt-"

“Wouldn’t have mattered.”

“If I’d been better at Occlumency, then I wouldn’t have had the vision-“

“It was have happened anyway!” Draco snapped. His cheeks were pink and Harry couldn’t tell if it was because of the wind or not. “It was only a matter of time, you idiot! What do you think would have happened when I arrived back at King’s Cross? Father would have just led me right home to him like a lamb to slaughter.”

“Well, then –“ Harry stumbled for words. “If we’d never have gotten like this in the first place-“

“Then it would still happen,” Draco rolled his eyes. “This was because of my father, Potter – Harry. It was nothing to do with you.”

He could only stare at Draco. The words seemed to bounce around his skull. He understood them – but they just stuck there. They didn’t make sense – not to Harry. They weren’t meant for him.

Because it was his fault. It had to be.

But it wasn’t. According to Draco, it wasn’t.

And Harry trusted Draco.

He trusted Draco completely.

Draco was hugging him. He only became away of it after he had been buried in Draco’s shoulder, his glasses digging into your face.

“I couldn’t protect you,” he whispered. It was hard to push the words out.

“There was nothing you could do, _mon amor_ ,” Draco whispered. “You can’t protect everyone.”

“I can protect you now.”

“No,” Draco was cradling his face, forcing him to meet his eyes. It was incredible how they had gone from storm clouds to this soft grey. Almost blue, Harry thought. “No, Harry, you don’t need to. You need to look after yourself.”

It felt as though there were snowflakes on his eyelashes. He was crying, he knew it.

He nodded, but wasn’t sure exactly how to do that. He wasn’t sure how to turn a blind eye and ignore how the Slytherins were.

“Will you tell me?” he asked instead. “Tell me what’s going on, Draco.”

Draco seemed to be being time, because he kissed him softly. Like he was made of glass and could break.

“One day,” he whispered. “One day I’ll tell you everything, but not today.”

*

 “I’m not stupid enough to sleep in the dorm,” Draco knocked a dead branch out of their path. They were keeping to the outskirts of the forest, where the trees were still relatively thin, so that they could see any danger approaching – people or monsters. “Nott sometimes stays with me in the Room of Requirement-“ the sentence left a bitter taste in Harry’s mouth. He tucked his arm more tightly into Draco’s, resting his head on Draco’s shoulder. He received an absent-minded pat. “I’ve been prying into what the Slytherins are saying. Zabini’s been given a task  - and it seems like it actually came from the Dark Lord, but he won’t say what it is. I’m sure the cursed necklace was part of it.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Harry said. “Katie Bell has nothing to do with any of them.”

“Zabini must have found a way to smuggle it into Hogsmede – get someone else to pass it to her.”

“Who?” Harry asked. “ _How_?”

Draco studied his face, frowning slightly. “I don’t know yet.”

“Can we do this again?” Harry said, the words escaping from him before he could stop them. “Met after class, or something? Let’s face it, Draco, Voldemort knows everything by now – if he even cares about my love life. The damage is done, there.”

“I’ll try,” Draco nudged Harry’s knee again. “The thing is, it hasn’t been as bad as I thought.” Harry gave him a disbelieving stare. “It hasn’t – there hasn’t been any jinxing or anything – and I’ve been sat in the Common Room some evenings. If I’m alone and not talking to anyone it’s fine, I’m just ignored, because I’m not seeing you all the time. Haven’t you noticed? There’s a lot less yelling in the corridors now.”

Harry, as much as he hated to admit it, had noticed. What he hated even more was the relief that came with it. The relief of walking to class without having to hear slurs at the corners of his hearing every five seconds.

Was that worth not seeing Draco?

He couldn’t tell. He didn’t think so. Over the next few days, he tried to meet Draco after class, always somewhere secluded. The weather was getting colder, so they had only spent half an hour shivering under the tree by the lake until their hands and faces were frozen. The back of the library was a good option, but girls also lurked there, all trying to get a peak at The Chosen One. Harry figured because Draco wasn’t glued to his side, they had figured they still had a chance. Their giggling was off-putting.

It wasn’t the conversation that Harry was missing. It was the feeling of Draco’s arms around him. It was the feeling of Draco’s mouth on his and Draco’s laugh against his neck.

They couldn’t be like they usually were when they were in the back of the library, hiding behind books and ignoring Romilda Vane’s giggles.

What made everything worse was seeing Ginny and Luna. They held hands in the corridor, Harry saw. Ginny would lean across whilst helping Luna with her homework and kiss her on the cheek. He and Ron had even come across the pair of them in a secret passage.

Ron had exploded.

“Do you want to get jinxed, Ginny?” he had yelled.

Harry had been holding him back. “Ron, it’s okay, calm down-“

“So you’re okay with Harry and Draco snogging it up in your room, but not me and Luna doing it out of sight?” Ginny snarled. Luna only needed to put a hand on her elbow to stop Ginny from reaching for her wand.

“Well, they’re not doing that anymore, so-“

“What’s so wrong about when _I_ kiss someone, Ron? Is it just because I’m a girl?”

“It’s because I don’t want to see you as miserable as Harry is, when everyone in our year’s turned against him!”

“Now, not _everyone_ ,” Harry muttered, gritting his teeth in the effort to keeping Ron where he was.

“No one _cares_! Haven’t you noticed? No one cares when it’s two girls!” Ginny snapped. She tore her arm away from Luna and stormed past Ron, knocking his shoulder as she passed. “Just – mind your own business.”

“Leave it, Ron,” Harry muttered. “She’s right, no one’s even bothered.”

“I’m using the confundus charm, that’s why,” Luna said. She stepped out of the passageway, brushing herself down. “No one even notices us.”

“You can’t keep doing that, Luna,” Harry said.

“Why not? It makes her happy and safe,” Luna smiled at Harry dreamily

“Aside from manipulating people against their will? You’re lying to Ginny – and Ginny hates being lied to.”

“I just want to give her a little bit of happiness,” Luna said. “She’ll see that you’re right, Ronald, and the two of you will make up. We just need to give her a little bit of time to make it all okay.”

She didn’t wait for a reply, heading down the corridor in the same direction that Ginny had gone in. Harry was almost certain that Ginny was waiting around the corner for her, safely out of sight from Ron.

Ron sighed and he remembered to release him.

“That’s bloody weird, right?” he asked Harry, who had to nod this time. “Ginny’ll be so mad when she finds out,” he paused, frowning down the corridor. “Someone should tell her. But she said she doesn’t want my help.”

“You’ll make her mad at you too,” Harry said.

“She’s already mad at me, how much worse can she get?” Ron asked. He shrugged. “She can’t be angry at me for doing what she asked. But you could tell her.”

Harry thought about it. He knew it was the right thing to do and he knew he’d get the unbridled rage of Ginny when she finally found out and exploded, but-

He wished he and Draco had that. He wished it so much that it made his chest ache. If they could do what Ginny and Luna were doing – if they could wander around together-

Would that be worth it?

He couldn’t tell anymore. Nothing seemed to be simple. In first year it was all good and bad, Gryffindor and Slytherin, The Order and Death Eaters, but now everything was starting to shift and merge together and he couldn’t tell any of it apart anymore.

So he didn’t tell Ginny, because he didn’t have the heart to break that perfect happiness. She was glowing, nowadays. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were sparkling and she was always smiling. Harry hadn’t seen her smiling like that since before the summer. Since before the Ministry of Magic.

He couldn’t ruin that. And neither, he discovered, could Ron.

They just left it, hanging in the air as an awkward question mark between the two of them.

*

The first Quidditch match Gryffindor played was against Slytherin, because of course it was. Harry completed his plan, pretending to slip Ron Felix Felicis, and keeping him and Ginny far away from each other before the match started. The last thing he needed was their sibling squabbles throwing the match for them.

Because Gryffindor always had to win against Slytherin. That was just the way it was, no matter who Harry’s boyfriend was.

It had been incredibly distracting to have Draco on the pitch. He never realised just how much he watched Draco Malfoy playing Quidditch. Usually, it was fine, because usually he was only watching Draco to make sure he wasn’t catching the snitch. Now, he would start by checking up on Draco, and end up just staring at him. Had he always flown so gracefully? He looked like a swan, with his back arched like that over the broomstick. His hair flew around his face so that it was almost as messy as Harry’s, but somehow he made it look cool. Attractive. Sexy.

Ron was playing brilliantly, as Harry knew he would. He was amazed at the power of suggestion that the potion had given him.

But it would all be for naught if he didn’t catch that bloody snitch.

It had been a very close thing. They had both been inches away from the snitch. It was the moment Harry loved, his whole body outstretched for the snitch. It always made him feel so vulnerable, being balanced like that. It was the danger that got his heart pounding.

His whole body was outstretched towards Draco. His fingertips were inches away from Draco’s. Suddenly, he very much wanted to hold Draco’s hand instead.

“Hey trouble.”

The words fell out of Harry’s mouth and he had no idea what possessed him to say them, but they were enough to make Draco waver. Enough to turn his already pink cheeks red and make him stumble.

Harry’s hands closed over the snitch.

He stopped his broom as quickly as he could, but they were far away again. He could hear the crowd cheering and roaring as he looked at Draco, the wind whipping his hair across his face so that it felt like he was being slapped by seaweed.

Draco was looking back at him. After a moment, he shrugged and smiled like the good sport he never had been.

As soon as he hit the ground, Harry’s team were enveloping him in a group hug. All he could see and feel were red Quidditch robes pressed against his face. He was laughing, they were all laughing and cheering, but his chest felt hollow. There was something missing. Someone’s arms missing.

Hermione, of course, had caught up with them in the changing room and had tried to get them expelled. Harry was a little peeved about revealing his placebo, but Ron was still ecstatic. Maybe it was the confidence boost he needed.

Maybe it was because Lavender Brown was flinging herself all over him and it made him flush scarlet.

Hermione scowled at the two as they stumble from the changing rooms, she turned to Harry with crossed arms.

“Look, Harry-“

“Apology accepted, Hermione.”

“Not what I was going to say. Someone in the library told me to,” Hermione sighed, crinkling her nose like there was a bad smell in the room. There was a bad smell, of course, of damp and mud and sweat, but like there was a worse smell. “Tell you to wait here. Could you tell him that I’m _not_ an owl? I’m not going to pass messages between you.”

Harry’s heart started racing like it had been when he had been reaching for the snitch. Him? Wait here for him?

Him?

“Right, okay, um,” Harry was still trying to process it. “I’ll tell him, thanks Hermione. Really.”

“Just don’t get into trouble, okay, Harry?” she said, before disappearing alongside Ginny.

Harry took his time untying his Quidditch boots, waiting everyone else in the Common Room out. It was a good thing they had won – everybody wanted to get back to the Common Room to celebrate. They were probably out on record time.

And Harry barely had to wait two minutes before Draco came strolling in, like a cat returning home after a week. He couldn’t help it, his heart leapt to his mouth just like it used to.

“Captain,” Draco said, leaning against the lockers. The way he drawled it out only increased Harry’s heart rate. “I’d like to report a foul.”

“Oh yeah?” Harry finally dropped his laces, standing and crossing his arms as he met Malfoy’s gaze.

Draco nodded, he stepped towards Harry as he spoke, his eyes glittering. "I was purposefully and unfairly distracted by the other team. It cost me the game."

"I'm not sure that a foul," Harry said. "Not unless there was physical contact."

"There was," Draco had his hands on Harry's shoulders, leaning his weight onto him.

"When?" Harry felt a smirk tugging at his lips as he anticipated the answer.

"Now."

And Draco’s mouth was against him, moving against his own hungrily and that was fine. That had been all Harry had been thinking about since Draco had walked in. His hand’s tugged at Draco’s robes, pulling him closer. Draco’s hands were in his hair, so tight that it almost hurt.

He felt his back hit the wall, his mouth opening in a gasp. He had missed this – so much. Their tongues clashed against each other’s, each one fighting to get in the other’s mouth first. He had missed the inside of Draco’s mouth, and he had missed the feeling of Draco’s tongue on the inside of his mouth.

Draco pulled away and Harry could feel his breath against his cheeks. He was breathing as though he’d just run a marathon. His hands couldn’t decide which of Draco to pull towards him. There was too much choice and too little time. Draco didn’t have that problem. In the next moment he had hold of Harry’s thighs, lifting him and pressing him against the wall so that Harry had to lean down to kiss him. He felt hot – his chest felt burning hot as he pressed himself against Draco, kissing him like he was a dying man in need of air. He had his hands on Draco’s shoulders to anchor himself, his legs twisted around Draco.

He let his mouth trail away from Draco’s mouth, up his cheek and to his temple. His blonde hair was still muddy from the match, it had left dark streaks across his pale skin.

“No love bites?” Draco murmured, his nose nuzzling against Harry’s neck, his breath hot and wet.

“They faded-“ Harry didn’t have much of a voice and he broke of when he felt Draco bite down on the side of his throat. He closed his eyes, focusing on breathing because his heart was trying its best to burst right out of his chest.

He pulled his quidditch robe down, letting Draco run his mouth over his collarbone and running his mouth over the shape of Draco’s ear. He had missed this – he had forgotten what this was like, and - oh no.

Oh no, he was hard.

He was hard and Draco could definitely tell because he was smirking like the cat who had the cream.

"Do you want me to help you with that?" Draco said, he paused, running a tongue over Harry's bottom lip. “Captain?”

And Draco saying _that_ in _that_ tone of voice didn’t help.

“Shut up, Malfoy,” he hated how he could barely get the words out. It made him sound like he was gasping.

“That’s no way to talk to a prefect,” Draco moved his hips so that Harry was pressed further against the wall. Between the wall and Draco. "I think you should apologise.”

"Would that help you?" Harry asked. His fists were clenched so tightly that they hurt.

"Perhaps," Draco's lips were just brushing against his, his breath hot. “Why don’t you find out?”

“Because,” Harry had to pause to catch his breath. “I never do what you tell me to.”

Draco smirked, pressing his mouth, and hips into Harry.

Someone could walk in on them any minute, Harry was aware. A teacher would be mortifying, but a student – they’d have to get ready to cast counter-jinxes.

But for now there was just him and Draco and he was going to make the most of it. Because this didn’t happen as much anymore.

And Draco had promised to tell him everything. One day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N): Happy boxing day! I hope everyone had a great Christmas/Holiday season. I think I have successfully eaten my body weight in food.
> 
> I know the endings a little awkward here - I went back and changed a large chunk and then it got to be a lot of words so I just wrapped it up.
> 
> Hoping to get the next episode up next week, but don't hold me to it!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed - thank you for all the comments/kudos. Please tell me what you think in the comments! x 


	8. 8

8

“You’re still in your quidditch robes,” Harry said, the wind whipping across his face.

“And you’re not,” Draco replied.

Maybe he should have been cold, sat on the bleachers in the t-shirt and trousers that he’d been wearing underneath his Quidditch robes, but it still felt as though he was on fire. It was like there was a fire trapped in his chest.

It was starting to get dark now, the sky turning a moody grey colour. It was like the dark clouds were slowly choking out the sun.

“You really waited around for me?” Harry asked. His voice was low and his fingers were just nudging Draco’s.

“It was worth it wasn’t it?” Draco smirked and Harry glanced away, feeling his cheeks warming so much that he was surprised his glasses didn’t fog up.

“Yeah, it was worth it,” Harry’s voice was soft. It was like stroking a cat – one wrong move and he could turn around and be bitten. “But I hate to think of you hiding under the bleachers because of me.”

“I wasn’t hiding under the bleachers!”

“Then where were you?” Harry said, and finally got the courage to meet Draco’s eyes. “Don’t lie to me, Draco. The Slytherin team are all sore losers, but they’d be even sorer if they thought you’d threw the match to make out with your boyfriend.”

“Oh, I would have made out with you if we’d won,” Draco said, but he was looking out over the empty Quidditch stadium. “Just to gloat over you.”

“Stop avoiding my questions.”

“But it’s so fun to,” the smirk was back, making Draco’s eyes glitter. He leant forward, his nose bumping against Harry’s.

Harry placed a hand over Draco’s mouth, hoping that he looked serious for once.

“ _Malfoy._ ”

“You only ever call me Malfoy when it’s serious,” Draco just pulled Harry’s hand away from his face, grinning.

“I _am_ serious,” Harry said. “You said you would tell me what was going on.”

“I said I’d tell you _one day_ ,” Draco was trying to slip his fingers into Harry’s. He kept slipping them away, not having to fight away a smile anymore.

“Then what day _is_?”

“Hell, Potter, it’s not a marriage proposal. I don’t know.”

“Could it be today?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because, we’ve just had that lovely time in the changing rooms and I don’t want to bring the mood down,” Draco leant forward again, his mouth slightly parted.

Harry jerked his head back. “So, something did happen?”

“No – don’t make this an argument, Potter.”

“You’re lying.”

“We don’t need to talk about this today,” Draco sighed sharply, looking back out at the empty stands. The wind had turned his nose pink.

“We absolutely do,” Harry tried to lean forward, to make Draco see him, but Draco turned further away.

“Don’t.”

“Do,” Harry stood, stepping in front of Draco with arms folded.

“No, we _don’t_!” Draco snapped. He stood too, so that he was nose to nose with Harry.  He was snarling. He hadn’t snarled like that at Harry since the beginning half of fifth year. “You told me you weren’t going to go rushing around with your wand out anymore!”

“Asking if you’re being lynched by your housemates isn’t rushing around with my wand!” Harry yelled back.

“I don’t see why it matters to you what they’re doing! We need to focus on what the Dark Lord is plan-“

“It matters to me because I care about you!” Harry’s throat burned in protest at his yell, and a handful of birds took flight from one of the Quidditch pitch towers. He glared at Draco, his breath appearing as frost in front of his face.

Draco blinked at him. It was as though that was news to him. “Well, it’s flattering to know you care.”

“Don’t you?” Harry found himself asking. “If the situation was reversed – if it was my dorm that were – wouldn’t you care?”

“Of course I would!” Draco’s breath puffed out in front of him, warm against Harry’s cheeks.

“Then why is it so wrong for me to?”

“Because I don’t _want_ to tell you!” Draco shouted. “Because you’re the chosen one with a prophecy and you’ve got _enough_ to stress about without me adding to it!”

Harry couldn’t think. He had barely heard the words for rage and couldn’t figure out their meaning. Of everything, he wouldn’t have guessed that. “What?”

“You think I haven’t noticed? How wound up you’ve been since coming to Hogwarts?  You’re stressed, Potter – every part of you is coiled up – just waiting for – I don’t know, the Dark Lord to pop out behind every corner! You can’t concentrate in class, you’re barely sleeping and you look like you’re going to have a breakdown every five minutes. I don’t want to add to that with my own nonsense – my own nonsense that I can deal with. I don’t want to add to your stress!”

“You’re adding to it by not telling me!”

“I’d add a hell of a lot more if you knew-“

“The truth?”

Draco faltered, biting his lip and avoiding Harry’s gaze. “Just – stop. Just please stop.”

“Fine. I’ll stop.” Harry snapped, pushing past Draco. Their shoulders collided, and Harry could still feel Draco’s shoulder as he stomped back down the stands.

He knew that his robes were lying in a heap in the changing room, but he could hardly go walking across the pitch in view of Draco just to get them. Instead, he headed back across the grounds, the mud rock solid beneath him. Draco’s words seemed to buzz around his head like bees, stinging his brain until he couldn’t bear to hear them anymore.

Suddenly he was cold. He realised as mud stuck to the cuffs of his jeans, that he could feel the cold.

He needed to get inside, but the castle was where Draco would go. He didn't know if it would be like last time, if Draco would follow him. Either way, he didn’t want to see him again any time soon. It wasn’t like he was in the wrong. He had just wanted the truth – what was wrong with that? Draco knew everything about him – everything he didn’t want Draco to know about his life before Hogwarts – why was it only one sided.

So, he went the one place he knew Draco wouldn't, even if it meant his fingers had frozen into claws and he couldn't feel his face by the time he got there.

Hagrid’s hut.

He pressed himself into the doorway for a moment. It had gotten dark now. Autumn was already starting to give way to winter, and the days were short. He could see the silhouette of the Quidditch pitch against a bruised grey-purple sky. Was Draco still sat there? Was he upset? Was he angry? It didn’t look like he was following him. There was no smudge against the landscape to show that he was making his way over to Harry. Was he relieved that Harry had left him?

A horrible thought came over him, like a rat gnawing at his intestines. What if this was what Draco had wanted all along? He’d said that things had been improving – since they hadn’t been seen together as much. Maybe he’d figured it was easier to break up with Harry altogether. It would make everything a lot easier for him. The other houses would leave the both of them alone, and maybe the Slytherins would lay off a little. After a few months, maybe he could even convince them he wasn’t-

Harry swallowed. It would be safer, for both of them.

But he had snuck into the changing room to see Harry. He wouldn’t have done that unless he still wanted to be together.

He sighed, then tapped against Hagrid’s door.

It was opened almost immediately, and Hagrid blinked down at Harry in surprise.

“Harry,” he said, needlessly.

“Hagrid,” his voice sounded shaky. Hagrid was still standing there, staring at him. He hooked his fingers in and out of jean pockets, before he bit his lip and asked. “Can I come in?”

Hagrid stood aside and the door closed behind him. It was even darker in the hut, a handful of candles lighting the round little room. Harry sat down at the table, watching the flames flickering. The wax was threatening to drown them.

“Didn’t Gryffindor win?” Hagrid asked. He was still standing at the door, but Fang had come to Harry’s side, and he scratched him behind his ears. “Aren't yer supposed to be celebratin’?”

“They probably are - in the common room,” Harry said.

“So why aren't yer?” Hagrid _finally_ sat down, but he was still looking at Harry warily. “Oh, I get it, you saw a certain someone after the match.”

“Can I want to see you, Hagrid?” Harry gave a laugh, but it sounded as fragile as his voice. “You’re always complaining that we don’t come down and see you often enough.”

“So, was ‘e a sore loser?”

“I don't want to talk about it,” Harry said, and finally Hagrid softened. His shoulders slumped and he leant against the table.

“What do yer want to talk about?” he asked.

Harry paused, glancing around the hut for something – anything, to change the subject with. “What are those grubs for?”

“Aragog,” Hagrid’s face softened even more. Crumpled really. “’e’s – ‘e’s really not doing so well, Harry.”

“I’m – sorry,” Harry was more sorry for Hagrid than the spider. There was something about the way he would have let his children eat him and Ron that made it hard to forgive him. But he was sorry that Hagrid would lose such an old friend. He waited, but Hagrid was quiet for a long while, staring sadly at the huge grubs pulsating away in the corner. “Um – Buckbeak’s okay, isn’t he? It’s just – Sirius must be missing him.”

“Wha’? Oh, yeah, Beaky’s okay,” Hagrid paused. “I suppose’ you had a good summer, with your Godfather?”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “Yeah – it was good.” He swallowed, because that summer was just so _full_ of Draco. Now the silence was becoming awkward. Maybe Hagrid’s hut wasn’t such a good idea. He hadn’t thought about what he was going to say, and yet that seemed to be how all of his visits to Hagrid went recently. “Look, Hagrid – this – this last year, I haven’t been – I don’t feel like myself.”

And to his surprise, Hagrid laughed out loud. It was the deep, rumbling belly laugh that Harry had been so happy to hear in his first year. He laughed, long and loud to the point that Harry began shuffling in his seat. He just stared at Hagrid.

“Tha’s because yer a teenager, Harry,” Hagrid finally managed to get his voice back, smiling at Harry with sparkling eyes. “No teenager ever feels like themself.”

Harry managed to smile, and Hagrid changed the subject to talk about school instead. About how Harry was doing in Charm and Transfiguration. It didn’t feel like it used to, and Harry’s stomach was still tied in several knots. But it was a step.

It was a step back to what Hogwarts used to be like. That was the Hogwarts Harry wanted to escape back to.

*

It was hard to concentrate on anything.

Everywhere had ghosts of Draco. He hadn’t realised just how much every part of the castle reminded him of him. He hadn’t realised how much he would miss Draco. Only the morning after the argument had he thought about tracking him down and apologising. He felt like a scolded dog.

But he couldn’t. There was a stubbornness in him that he supposed was the reason he wore a red tie instead of a green one. He wouldn’t apologise.

“And nor should you,” Hermione said. He had told her in Charms, and she sniffed as she gave her tea cup legs. It begun tapdancing. “He’s always had secrets. It wouldn’t have killed him to have told us about the Basilisk in second year, would it? Merlin’s beard, the year was almost up by the time I found that page about the Basilisk. How many people would have died if we hadn’t been so lucky with reflections?”

“That was different – we hated each other then,” Harry mumbled. He tapped his wand half-heartedly against his own teacup. It remained resolutely still.

“No, you hated him. I don’t think he ever really hated you, otherwise he wouldn’t have helped us. It was _me_ he hated,” Hermione glanced at Harry from the corner of her eye. “My point is, Harry, he’s never told you the truth. He always keeps things close to his chest and you’ve always let him. He feeds you just enough to string you along and then-“

Harry caught the teacup before it danced right off of the table. “It’s not like that! There are some things that I just know not to ask about!”

“Why shouldn’t you ask about them? Why shouldn’t you know what his father did?”

“Because I don’t want him to know every horrible thing that happened to me,” Harry snapped. “There are some things, Hemione, that you just don’t ask other people about – but you wouldn’t know because of your perfect child-“

There was a sudden crack.

Harry looked down to see the tea cup shattered in his hand, little pieces of china scattered on the floor. There was a thin line of red beads appearing on his palm and he stared at it in surprise.

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione sighed next to him, placing a hand on his chest to push him out of the as she pointed her wand at the rubble and repaired it effortlessly. She also levitated it straight into her hand, carrying it back to safety like a small animal that she’d just rescued. “Yes, okay, I had a normal childhood. I’m sorry – I don’t understand what it’s like for you two.”  She paused, discreetly giving Harry’s teacup its own legs as McGonagall started to walk towards them. “But, I mean, isn’t that something that each of you can understand? Surely if anyone can help Draco with his daddy issues it’s you.”

“How can I help with werewolf issues?” Harry muttered. He poked his teacup, watching it wobble on its legs. It was meant to make him feel better, but he just felt guilty about it.

“This is my point. He needs to open up to someone, otherwise he’ll be all alone.”

“He seems to want to be all alone. He doesn’t _want_ to open up to me, Hermione.”

“And I’m saying that you’re not in the wrong for getting upset about that. You deserve to be opened up to, Harry. You’re a good boyfriend. And what’s most important in a relationship is honesty.”

“Have you been reading textbooks on dating or something?” Harry asked. Their teacups were walking into each other now, and he let them.

“Ha-ha. I’ve just been listening to my parents – happy childhood, remember?”

Harry made a small ‘hmm’ noise. He didn’t know if Hermione had good advice – she was never the person to go to for relationship advice. Then again, Ron wasn’t either. But he did know that it made him feel better to have someone on his side. Someone was agreeing with him, so he figured that he was in the right.

“Anyway – things aren’t a dream for me, either, Harry,” Hermione said. “Mudblood, remember?”

“Don’t say that word.”

“And there’s the whole Ron and Lavender situation,” Hermione continued, glancing behind her. Harry glanced too. Lavender was sat so close to Ron that she was almost sat on his lap. She giggled at every word he said. “Honestly, I didn’t even think he…”

Hermione let her voice fade away, biting her lip.

Harry shrugged. He remembered when he finally made his way back to the common room last night and had found Hermione sat in the corridor outside, a collection of small birds twittering around her head. It looked like a cartoon, if she hadn’t been so sad, Harry would have laughed.

“Were me and Draco that gross?” Harry asked.

“ _Are_. No, not really,” Hermione said. She sniffed again. “It doesn’t matter. It really doesn’t matter who he’s kissing and who he’s not.”

“If – if you say so, Hermione.”

One of the teacups finally knocked the other over, just as the lesson ended.

Ron caught up with them then, throwing an arm around Harry’s shoulder and asking about when the next Quidditch practice would be. Harry had barely given it any thought. Practice reminded him of matches and matches reminded him of Draco pressing him against the changing room wall and calling him ‘captain.’ It had made his whole chest ache.

Of course, Ron’s presence meant that Hermione gave another sniff and disappeared into the crowd. Harry was sad about that. Whilst she hadn’t noticed anything different in Harry’s mood, she had been the easiest to tell about it. Ron seemed to be blissfully ignoring it. Maybe he was happy that Harry was detached from Draco – maybe he didn’t even notice. His whole world seemed to be Lavender and Quidditch and homework.

Hermione’s advice was always simple and frank. Ron just shrugged and scratched his ear and said “well, who can ever tell what’s going on in Draco’s mind?”

Harry could. At least, he had felt like he could. He felt as though they’d begun to understand each other and that they’d figured out a way to make this all work.

He knew who to ask. Sirius was the one with all the answers. But every time he got the mirror out and stared into it, he couldn’t bring himself to say his name. It was like something was pulling him back, but he couldn’t put his finger on what or why. He supposed he had wanted Sirius to think things were going well – that things would stay going well. Especially because things had been so different for Sirius and Lupin.

Or had they? He couldn’t help but think nothing had changed much. In all the years of children going to Hogwarts, everything seemed to be the same. Including everyone’s attitudes.

People had, however, noticed something between Harry and Draco. Nothing was ever kept a secret for long, and Harry found “where’s your boyfriend, Potter?” being called at him in the corridor. It was more digestible than some of the other things.

Maybe Draco had been right. Maybe it was easier to not be together. After a couple of months, people wouldn’t remember it so much. Harry could fake a relationship and they’d forget all about that time Potter was gay.

But he found that he didn’t care that much. It was probably because he was so used to the atmosphere at Hogwarts being so changeable. He was used to being jeered at. Nothing had been worse than fourth year – when no one had even listened when he had tried to explain that he _hadn’t_ put his name in the Goblet of Fire. It wasn’t his choice.

This had been. This had been his choice and he was proud of it. The way Sirius’ eyes glistened when he called Harry brave had made him feel like it was all worthwhile. It was like a rebellion. It was something that Harry found that he wanted to fight for. Because if it was really so much of a bother then he would bother them because he couldn’t see anything wrong with it.

There wasn’t anything.

So the jeers didn’t matter to him. He wanted to explain that to Draco.

But he knew it wasn’t jeering that was bothering Draco. It was only jeering around Harry because he was the Chosen One. No one wanted to pick a fight with him – anyone who was in the DA knew not to, and word must have spread. No one wanted to face Ron, Hermione and Ginny’s wrath either. He was surrounded comfortably by people who had his back.

Draco didn’t.

He had only had Harry.

And yet, as he rocked up to potions – ten minutes late, naturally, he was with Nott. They slipped into the background easily and the others didn’t so much as glance at them. Some kind of understanding had happened, Harry figured as he stirred his potion. A truce as long as they stayed out of the way.

So it was probably better for Draco if he didn’t meet Harry’s eye. He didn’t, anyway. He stayed staring at his textbook or his cauldron, his face more pale and pinched than ever. He didn’t look well. Harry couldn’t remember the last time it was the opposite.

Some weeks at Grimmauld Place, he supposed. Between full moons.

Was it worth it? Harry had been a good enough respite then, but now he seemed to have lost that. They had seemed to have lost that. And it was all because Harry had to blow his top. He had to make such a big deal out of such a little thing.

“Harry, your cauldron’s beginning to smoke,” Hermione said. She hadn’t even glanced up. “He’s not going to look at you, not in class.”

“Well then, when, Hermione?” he asked, feverishly adding the next ingredient. “It’s not like we see each other _outside_ of class, is it? Snape’s seen to that.”

“I don’t think he was trying to be cruel – for once,” Hermione murmured, sprinkling powder into her cauldron. “I actually think he was trying to look out for Draco.”

“Snape only looks out for himself,” Harry muttered stubbornly. The same thought had actually crossed his mind multiple times, but he refused to acknowledge it. Snape was pure evil. All the way through. That was who he was and how it would always be.

“You know where to find Draco in the evenings if you really want to talk to him,” Hermione continued. “I thought you weren’t going to apologise?”

“I didn’t say I was going to apologise.”

“What? You’re just going to start kissing him again?”

“No! I don’t know – I’d just – I miss him. It’s like my arm’s been cut off.”

“Now you’re just being melodramatic,” Hermione rolled her eyes. “I don’t know what to tell you. First you don’t want to see him, now you do – I just don’t understand it-“ which was a fine thing to say, coming from her, Harry thought. He still couldn’t figure out how she felt about the whole ‘Ron-and-Lavender’ situation. It wouldn’t surprise him at this point if she actually had a thing for Lavender. “And stop using that bloody book to cheat!”

“You can’t _cheat_ at potions – you either make it or you don’t!”

“Make it how the book says!”

“I am! How _this_ book says!” Harry tapped it in question. He hadn’t noticed how loud his voice was until he heard a few sniggers from the surrounding cauldrons. There was a flash of a grey stare too. A familiar grey stare.

But by the time he had turned to Draco he had missed it.

One thing was for sure. Harry wasn’t getting anywhere by using Hermione as an agony aunt. He couldn’t use Sirius, he felt plain weird asking Ron. He tried Dean and Seamus, but they just told him to pretend they _had_ broken up.

“Start again together, in secret, like,” Seamus had said.

“And keep it a secret this time,” Dean had finished.

No, that wasn’t what Harry wanted. He wanted to make sure everyone knew he didn’t care what they thought. He still wasn’t sure where this anger was coming from, but for once he was glad to have it. He wanted them to know that what they thought didn’t matter. That they couldn’t stop him.

He had explained this to the one other person he had thought to ask. Luna.

“From what I gather, Harry, you should just face this problem at the source,” she said. He had managed to corner her at the edge of the Forbidden Forest – tracking down Luna was like tracking down a fairy. He still wasn’t sure if he was actually talking to her or if she was just the reflection from his watch. Her pale hair and skin seemed to glow yellow in the sunset.

They were headed through the forest, Luna walking bare foot like a nymph. He supposed Ginny would find something like that endearing.

“I’m not apologising,” he said. He had said it so often it felt like a muscle memory now.

“Oh, I’m not suggesting that. Draco doesn’t want to tell you, and apologising to him will just land you right back where you were before,” Luna said. She stopped to pick a twig off of the ground, swishing it in the air in front of her like she was conducting a choir. “He’s not the problem. Not the source of it, anyway.”

“You’ve lost me, Luna.”

“Why don’t you just confront the Slytherins?” she said, as though it was the simplest thing in the world. “The boys in his dormitory are the ones causing the problem, aren’t they? Why don’t you just tell them to stop?”

“As if its that easy,” Harry said.

Luna raised an eyebrow at him, her lips curling into a small smile. The twig still twitched in front of her. “But it is. Wasn’t it Hermione yelling at all of the Gryffindors that made everyone stop bothering you, Harry?”

“I wouldn’t say it stopped them altogether,” Harry muttered. He shook his head. “Anyway, Luna, Draco doesn’t want me doing that. He got pissed off that my wand is always the answer to everything.”

“But you’re not talking to him anyway,” Luna said. “What more harm can you do?”

She had a point. Draco was already not speaking to him – he wasn’t even looking at him – whatever he did now, he couldn’t possibly make anything worse.

“You’re saying I should just – threaten Zabini and that lot?”

“Why not?” Luna replied. Her eyes were fixed on something beyond the twig that she was holding. Harry couldn’t see anything in front of them but dead leaves and skeletal trees. “Magic will be how the war is settled after all.” She went quiet, intent on flicking that twig sideways in several short, sharp movements. Then she smiled, widely. “Weren’t the mushrimps just wonderful?”

“What?” Harry blinked.

“The mushrimps – they grow all around here, you know. And they sing, if they have a conductor.”

“I’ll listen more closely next time,” Harry said.

Luna had given him an idea – a practical idea that was starting to form itself into a plan. The more he thought about it, the more he came around to the idea. He didn’t have to use magic – but if he could confront them somehow. If he could call them off, then maybe things would be easier on Draco.

He wasn’t scared of that lot, anyway. He never had been and now he couldn’t think for the life of him why they hadn’t thought of this before.

Face the problem at its source. Luna was right. It had just taken her brain to think of it – they weren’t the only two people involved.

Harry could fix this, he was sure he could.

The Slytherin sixth years were the source of the problem. He could face them – he had fought off worse. Then Draco wouldn’t have anything to hide. Maybe he’d be able to eat and sleep better because of it. Maybe it would stop him being a ghost.

And if Harry failed – then it wasn’t like Draco could stop talking to him twice.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N): Oh, Harry, that's not how you solve this...  
> I guess there's going to be some more angst in the next few chapters - if it's angst? Is it angsty?  
> I know not a lot happened in this chapter apart from pining, but I do have a clear idea of where I'm headed so hopefully I can update next wednesday as well! And after all this angst I have a great scene planned so please stay tuned! It'll be v romantic. (At least, I hope so.)  
> But I hope you have comments about the latest chapter and I would love to hear them! (Even if they're not good, lmao!)  
> -Also I say 'Slytherins' a lot in this chapter, but it's really only in the context of the sixth years that are being dicks rather than Slytherins in general. I have nothing against Slytherins, lmao, I'm totally on board with the literally hardly any Slytherins are evil train.  
> I hope you had a happy New Year's - I can never get excited about it. I think the only reason I stayed up till midnight this year was because I had a couple of ciders and even then I wanted to go to bed before the fireworks. I only stayed up to see the New Year because there were only ten minutes left.  
> (Christmas though? On Christmas I'm up at seven every year. Love Christmas.)  
> See you all next week xx


	9. 9

9

Harry didn’t tell anyone else about his plan. Hermione would probably tell him it was a stupid and reckless idea, which should have been a warning bell, really. But he wasn’t in the mood for another argument. All he’d seemed to do for the last week was argue with different people about the same thing. He was sick of it. He was sick of going round and round in circles, especially when there were bigger things to worry about. He had a plan. He had a plan and he was going to execute it.

He snuck down in his invisibility cloak, mainly because he was scared that he was going to bump into Snape – or worse, Slughorn. He really couldn’t deal with Slughorn, especially not when he was definitely going to get a detention for this if he was caught.

When he was opposite the Slytherin Common Room, he snuck the cloak into his bag and waited. He tried to look casual, because a group of second years stared at him as they went past. They glanced over their shoulders fearfully, as though they expected Harry to suddenly rush them and barge into the Common Room of his own accord.

Tried was the operative word. He couldn’t sit still. His feet or fingers always started to tap on their own accord. He was driving himself insane with it.

Actually, he was going to give up hope. Maybe the sixth years had already all gone to bed. Maybe he was wasting his time lurking out here. He could always come back tomorrow – or the next day.

Still, Draco wasn’t speaking to him. He didn’t think he would be able to keep it up. He would break, soon enough, and apologise. It wouldn’t be the end of the world, but it wouldn’t have solved anything. They would be right back to where they started.

But a sixth year Slytherin hadn’t come out of the Slytherin Common Room yet. He was wasting his time down here.

Just as soon as he was about to give up, the door open. He froze, a sudden rush of fear going through him.

It was Blaise Zabini.

He stared at Harry with dark, impassive eyes. “Your little boyfriend isn’t here, Potter. Run along now.”

“I’m not here to see Malfoy,” Harry said. His voice didn’t shake and he was proud of that. He stepped forward, blocking him from walking any further down the corridor.

“I’d like to say that I’m flattered,” Blaise said, his lip curling. He stopped, using the half a head he had over Harry to his advantage. “But I’m not. I’m really not.”

 “You need to leave him alone,” Harry said. “Whatever you’re doing, you need to stop.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Blaise’s mouth twitched upwards, and he went to step around Harry.

He blocked his path. “I’m not an idiot, Zabini.”

“Are you sure about that?” Blaise gave a scoff.

“I know there’s something that’s been going on. I know you’ve been bothering him for no reason-“

“No reason?” Blaise’s eyes flashed and Harry found himself taking a step back. “It’s bad enough that he’s a poof – even if he wasn’t, it would be bad enough that he’s with a Gryffindor of all people. Then his father has to go and mess up, doesn’t he? His father was a great disappointment to the Dark Lord – his mother too. They’re traitors to the cause – to _your_ cause.” Blaise paused, his lip curling in a very Snape-like manner as he examined Harry. “I don’t know what it is about you that makes people betray everything they’ve ever known – betray him of all people-“

“Because he’s wrong. His ideas about purebloods and muggleborns, they’re ridiculous-“

“They’re the truth!” Blaise snapped, like he truly believed it. In the dim, greenish light of the dungeons, he looked sickly and pale. The spit on his lips and the dark of his mouth made him look like a ghoul instead of a teenage boy and even that wasn’t the part that chilled Harry’s anger. It was the earnest look on his face – the blood rushing to his cheeks as he spoke. “Grindlewald knew it! Grindlewald fought for it back then and we’ll fight for it now. They’re right – they’re both right. Magic should be for those who truly deserve it – who know what to do with it.”

“Murder innocent people you mean?” Harry spat back. “Like at the Quidditch World Cup? Murder muggles and torment muggleborns just because of who their parents were?”

“Fear makes people listen,” Blaise was speaking as though he was reciting from a textbook.

“No,” Harry said, and he wasn’t sure where the words came from. It was as though there was something greater speaking through him. “Fear makes people rebel. They’re rebelling against Voldemort-“

“How dare you say his name!”

“-They’re rebelling against Voldemort and all the bullshit that comes out of his mouth in the name of purity – did you know that he’s a half-blood himself?”

“You’re lying,” Blaise said. But he paused, taking a breath as he looked over Harry. There was a moment where he seemed to be remembering that he hated him, before he fixed that snarl back onto his face. “It doesn’t matter who is the figurehead, Grindlewald is the one who planted the ideas.”

“Grindlewald was defeated by Dumbledore. Just like Voldemort will be,” Harry could fake the conviction in his voice. He could fake the loyalty. Dumbledore, in this context, he told himself, wasn’t a man – he was their side. He was more a concept of their side than the old man upstairs who told Harry that either him or Voldemort had to die at each other’s hands.

Blaise paused. Then a smile kept across his face. The smile of a cat who had the cream. The smile that should make a rat feel uneasy. Harry couldn’t bring himself to, he just kept glaring. He was very good at it.

“So you don’t know,” Blaise said.

“Don’t know what? You’re not going to tell me that Grindlewald isn’t really dead, are you? Or that Voldemort is his reincarnation or something.”

“Oh nothing like that,” Blaise scoffed and rolled his eyes. For a moment, just a moment, he had the same expression that Drao so often wore. The same slight smile on his face. For a moment, he looked like a teenage boy again instead of the troll in the dungeons. “Those are all fanciful tales for stupid housewives. No, Potter, there are much more interesting rumours. Rumours much more suited to-“ there was a horrible twist of Blaise’s mouth here. “ _Your_ tastes.”

He sounded so much like Snape mentioning Sirius that Harry couldn’t bring himself to care. He didn’t want to think all Slytherins were the same – he was sure those second years from earlier were actually decent people – but they sure rubbed off on each other in some ways.

“I’m not here to discuss ideologies, Zabini,” he said instead. “There’s no way to get through your thick skull. I’m here to get you to lay off Draco.”

“Malfoy? Who you’ve barely spoken to in a week?” Blaise laughed at the expression on Harry’s face. “Don’t think people haven’t noticed, Potter. The golden couple of the school are having a lovers tiff.”

“It because of people like you-“

“No, it’s because of you. It’s because of you that Draco’s mother betrayed the Dark Lord. She did it for you and who the fuck can figure out why? Betrayed her family – her family full of pure blood wizards just for _you_! Because Draco asked her to because of _you_. Because Draco decided to go against everything – his family and his friends and his _duty_ because he got a boner for you. That’s why it’s disgusting Potter – because you singlehandedly ruined his life and he doesn’t even care. _You_ don’t even care.”

The words got under Harry’s skin and bubbled there. For a moment he couldn’t even breathe.

“ _I care_ ,” the words echoed like a drip around the dungeon, as though there was a small army of Harry’s. Small was the word. He felt very small.

"Oh yes, you’ve come down here to save your beloved little wolf,” there was that hideous gleam in Blaise’s eyes. The gleam of a lion seeing a wounded gazelle – seeing the surprise in Harry’s eyes. “Yeah, we got told about Malfoy’s little hairy problem. It’s a good reminder to us all, what happens when you make the wrong decision.”

Harry couldn’t move. The lights in the dungeon blurred in his vision, becoming a white-green glow. He prayed that he wouldn’t faint. Being sick was fine – at least if he was sick he would be sick all down Blaise’s front. It would be just as horrible for either of them.

“It’s sweet, really,” Blaise kept talking, his tone suggesting it was anything but. “A faggot knight in shining armour for the-"

Harry's wand was under Blaise's chin, anger clawing its way out of his chest. The word had ripped through him – brought him back from the fog that was invading his mind. Fog bringing words that he had already thought, several times. It was all his fault. Of course it was.

"You say it,” he growled, and a spark flew from his wand. “I. Fucking. Dare. You."

Blaise met his gaze without flinching. He stared down at Harry with hooded eyes.

"Or what, Potter?" he murmured, his voice low and dangerous.

If Draco had asked him, Harry would probably start stuttering for an answer. But Draco wasn’t asking and he was angry all over. He hadn’t felt this angry for a long time. Since he had been inside Voldemort’s head. This kind of anger was dangerous and exhausting and-

Thrilling. He felt like he could do anything. He was on fire.

And he knew the spell. He knew exactly what one to pick. The Half-Blood Prince’s handwriting appeared in his mind as clearly as if it was before him. ‘For enemies.’

Well, he was a half-blood.

“Sectum-“

“ _Flippendo_!”

The spell whipped against Harry’s cheek and he hit the wall behind him.

“Protego!” he had spent long enough in the DA to be able to cast that even as he was blinking stars away from his eyes. His mouth tasted like copper, and his glasses were askew, but he was still able to glance around to see Blaise stood with his wand raised at this newcomer.

This newcomer who was Draco Malfoy. He looked like a ghost – thin and pale and ready to snap with one good spell thrown his way. Despite that, he still managed to be terrifying. His expression had gone beyond fury, his mouth and eyebrows set as he glared a hole through Harry. Harry met it, anger still bursting like blisters all over his skin.

“What the hell is going on?” Draco’s voice was quiet. It didn’t even echo. It didn’t need to. Harry felt frozen to the spot – like a child with his hand caught in the cookie jar.

“Malfoy,” Blaise was smiling. He had the attitude of someone who had just sat down to watch a good show. “Care to reign in your pup? He was just about ready to bite me,” the smile made Harry’s stomach turned as Blaise paused, his eyes flicking over Draco. “Though, maybe _he_ should be the one stopping you from biting anyone, hm?”

Draco gave Blaise an unimpressed twitch of the eyebrow, but he looked tired. He looked as though he had heard this all before and it didn’t bother him. Well that was fine – but it bothered Harry. At that moment he felt all the venom that Nagini felt just before she had bitten Mr Weasley –

He had cast the stinging jinx before he had even thought about it. The white flash illuminated the dungeon and the force of it sent Blaise flying backwards.

The glimmer of triumph that he felt lasted a moment, before Draco was grabbing his arm and yanking him down the hallway, mumbling a collection of swear words under his breath. He glanced back towards Blaise, who was writhing on the ground, before he pushed Harry around a corner. As they stood there, Harry could hear Blaise moaning slightly. His lips threatened to twitch into a smile, but Draco was still glaring at him. In the last few weeks he had seen Draco furious, but it was still enough to make him feel cold. His legs threatened to shake.

And Draco wasn’t saying anything. He was just staring at him with a mix of disappointment and outrage on his face.

“Draco, I-“

“Don’t.”

“-I just wanted to-“

“Run around jinxing anything that looks at you funny?” Draco swallowed. He wouldn’t look Harry in the eye. He was looking at the ceiling. “You said you were going to leave it. I _trusted_ you.”

“Do you?” Harry’s voice sounded sharp and high in the corridor. “If you trusted me Draco, you would-“

He fell silent as he heard footsteps. Draco cursed under his breath again, pushing Harry into a nearby classroom so hard that he stumbled over a desk. Draco pushed the door closed, an ear pressed towards it.

“You would _talk_ to me,” Harry continued. A part of him was terrified that they’d be caught, but a larger part of him didn’t care. What was the worse that could happen? Dumbledore wasn’t about to expel him. Not now. “You would tell me about what’s happening – you would let me _help_ -“

Draco cut Harry off by moving suddenly and quickly, like a cobra. It seemed the next instant that he was right in front of Harry, his hand pressed against his mouth. The footsteps were louder outside. Harry heard a cry. It sounded like Millicent Bullstrode.

“You can’t help,” Draco hissed. “You _can’t_ help with this, Potter. That’s what I’ve been trying to get through your thick head. Doing this – pulling such a – that’s only made it worse. Now you’ve made me look like some prissy little damsel in distress-“

“Professor! Professor Snape, come quickly!” that was definitely Millicent outside.

“-They’re all going to think I need big, strong Potter to protect me-“

Harry pulled Draco’s hand down. They were so close that they were almost nose to nose. “Well, it’s not like you were going to protect yourself, was it?”

“They’re not worth it – they’re silly little school children-“

“Draco, look at you! You look like death. One _flippendo_ and – fuck, I can’t believe you shot at me!”

“Well someone had to stop you from making a stupid mistake, didn’t they?”

“Honestly, Miss Bullstrode, it’s a simple stinging jinx,” Snape’s voice had a way of travelling down the corridor, as though he was an unembodied voice penetrating each room. “The perpetrators will still be around, nip back into the Common Room and tell them there will be fifty house points for whoever catches who did this.”

Draco hit Harry’s shoulder, hard, and grabbed a handful of his robes, bundling the two of them into one of the potions cupboards. It was for books, not ingredients and they barely fit around the piles of mouldering textbooks with closed doors. There was just a sliver of light, illuminating a line down Draco’s face.

“He would have got what he deserved,” Harry whispered, making sure to keep his voice down.

“What were you even going to cast?”

Harry paused just long enough that he knew he wouldn’t be able to get away with lying. “One of the Prince’s spells.”

“Of course,” the words dripped disdainfully from Draco’s tongue. “So you didn’t even know what it was going to do.”

“Well it said ‘for enemies,’ so-“

“You could have done permanent damage.”

“And they haven’t done damage to you?”

“Not this again-“

“What am I supposed to think when you won’t tell me? You just leave me to imagine all the fucked up-“

Draco’s hand was over his mouth again, his whole body pressed against Harry to keep him still. The classroom door creaked slowly open and Harry froze. It was definitely inappropriate to think about how warm Draco was – how soft his fingers were.

And yet he was sure that Draco had slipped a leg inbetween Harry’s legs on purpose.

They listened to the footsteps tracking through the classroom and Harry found his hands on Draco’s waist. They just slipped there as though it was second nature, and they still seemed a good fit, even though Harry could feel Draco’s hipbones. It was the first time in a week and a half that he had been this close to Draco and he had missed it.

The footsteps continued to stalk around. He felt, rather than heard Draco sigh, then there was a whispered spell.

Whoever it was in the classroom let out a cry. The footsteps ran from the room, with a squeaked “they’re going this way!”

Harry heard a stampede of feet moving through the corridor outside. He stayed still, waiting until Draco pulled away and feeling suddenly cold when he did.

Draco stepped out of the cupboard and into the classroom, making a few textbooks scatter in his wake. He stood with his back to Harry, his arms crossed around himself. Harry stayed still against the edge of the cupboard.

“It’s – it’s because of the way you look at me,” Draco said. He turned, looking up at Harry. “You look at me like I’m this – mythical creature – like I’m something great. It’s selfish and stupid, but,” Draco licked his lips and his gaze dropped. “I don’t want you to ever stop looking at me like that. If – you’d look at me like they do, if you knew everything.”

Harry stepped down from the cupboard, stepped closer to Draco, so that his fringe bumped against Draco’s.

“You know every shitty thing about me, Draco,” he murmured. “Every horrible thing that happened to me as a kid you saw with occlumency. I never wanted you to know about any of that. But you still – you still – stay.”

“I love you, that’s why,” Draco said. His mouth twitched.

“And I love you,” Harry said. “So you can tell me.”

Draco pressed his head against Harry’s, his fingers just pressing against Harry’s chest. “I don’t know _how_. We don’t talk about this, at home – we don’t talk about-“

“You’re not at home,” Harry murmured, he pressed Draco’s hands against him. “You’re with me. Just me.”

Draco pressed himself against Harry, his cheek brushing against Harry’s as he rested his chin on his shoulder. The movement made Harry realise just how sore the side of his face was. It stung and throbbed and he had to stop himself from wincing.

“I can’t look at you,” Draco whispered. “Don’t – don’t move – don’t say anything, okay?”

“Yes, Mr Malfoy.”

“You’re such a dick, Potter,” but Draco pressed his mouth against Harry’s neck. Then he sighed –

and began to speak.

*

Once it had been safe to leave the classroom, they had. It had been a quiet walk upstairs to the Room of Requirement. it seemed to know Draco instantly, but the room it conjured up was a weird mix of Malfoy Manor and the Gryffindor Common Room.

He had told Harry what had happened. He had shaken and had to stop every few moments to find the right words. Harry tried to do what he was asked. He tried not to move, or say anything. He ended up biting his tongue hard enough to bleed and clenched his fists. At the end of it all, Draco just whispered “so you now you know.”

It didn’t seem to do it justice. But now Harry knew – a part of him wished that he hadn’t asked, that he’d just let it go.

Draco had told him, though.

Draco had trusted him.

And Draco didn’t mollycoddle him about the Dursley’s. He sneered and swore but he hadn’t gone out and cursed them. Yet, at least.

So he tried to do something that he’d never done before – he took a leaf from Draco’s book, and just whispered. “I’m sorry. Thank you.”

Draco had squeezed his hand then. That was when they had left the classroom.

 “I’m sorry about this,” Draco ran his finger over the red skin of Harry’s cheek.

Harry was leaning against the poster one of the four poster beds the room had supplied. He shrugged. “I could take it.”

Draco chuckled, and pressed his mouth to the angry mark. “It makes you look tough though.”

“I think I have enough scars, thanks,” Harry turned away, running a hand through his hair. Draco’s gaze flickered to the lightning bolt.  “Can’t you, I don’t know, heal it, or something?”

“I could,” Draco let his hand drop down, it rested on Harry’s thigh. “But I think you should keep it. It makes it look like you fought Zabini and won.”

“I thought I wasn’t allowed to fight Zabini.”

Draco shrugged.

“I want to, now,” Harry said, putting his hand over Draco’s. “Shit, Draco.”

“It was nothing – you can get a lot worse than _oppugno_ ,” Draco said. He squeezed Harry’s thigh. “Don’t start duelling people, you’ll get expelled.”

“Dumbledore won’t expel me,” Harry said.

“Fine then,” Draco said, he shuffled closer, so that he was almost straddling Harry. “I don’t want to see them use crucio on you.”

“They wouldn’t get that far,” Harry half-smiled, hoping that he looked like the cool chosen one.

“Oh really?”

“I got an ‘O’ on my Owls and I’ve defeated Voldemort three times.”

“Honey,” Draco’s nose nudged against Harry’s. “Honey, no. Standing up for me, you saw how it went. They’re like stinging nettles stings – ignore them and they’ll go away. Eventually.”

“I don’t want to wait for that.”

“Tough,” Draco was smirking, and his hands were still on Harry’s thighs, applying just enough pressure to scramble his stomach. He leant forwards to catch Harry’s mouth in his own, and Harry found himself smiling. He wanted to kiss Draco – he had missed kissing Draco –

And then Blaise’s words echoed in his head – _you singlehandedly ruined his life and he doesn’t even care._

Harry turned away, because suddenly he felt sick again. _You don’t even care._

His hands caught Draco’s, slipping them away from him.

“I knew it – I knew this would change everything,” Draco muttered. He swallowed, trying to disentangle himself from Harry, but he hung on.

“No – no, it’s not you-“

“Did you seriously just say that?”

“Honest – it was – it was just something that Blaise said-“

“About me?”

“About me,” Harry swallowed.

“It wasn’t true,” Draco whispered. “Nothing he says is true, Harry.”

Harry nodded, but the words bounced away from him. He felt numb. Draco studied him, his pale eyelashes flickering. He moved slowly, like he was approaching a skittish horse, and placed a chaste, quick kiss on Harry’s mouth.

“I promise. He’s lying.”

Harry nodded again, letting his mouth rest against Draco’s. Whilst he was talking, it was easier to block out the words.

“It’s easier like this, isn’t it?” he murmured eventually. He wanted to close his eyes, so that he didn’t have to look at Draco, but every time he did he saw Blaise spitting at him. “Not – not being-“

“All lovey-dovey?” Draco finished his question. “Yes. Of course it is. It was easier last year when no one knew.”

“You want to go back to that?” Harry wasn’t sure why his voice was shaking. He wasn’t sure why the idea of hiding their relationship bothered him. Draco was right. It was easier for both of them.

“I think we basically already have,” Draco whispered, he ducked his head underneath Harry’s chin and buried himself in Harry’s school shirt. “I think it would be better to tell everyone we broke up. We were just too different to make it work. It was just a phase-“ Draco paused to yawn, then clutched at Harry’s shirt like a cat digging in its claws. “-Any old nonsense. They’ll lay off and everything will be like it was before they found out.”

“Yeah,” Harry murmured, wrapping his arms around Draco. His hair was soft underneath him. This was better, he told himself, as Draco shuffled to find the perfect position, pressing his cheek against Harry’s chest. He wondered if he could hear his heartbeat.

This would be better for Draco, and so, it would be better for the both of them.

And yet there was a little voice that made itself known as Harry drifted off to sleep. A little voice, that sounded very much like Blaise told him it was because Draco resented him. He resented that Harry had done this to him. It was Harry’s fault, after all. It was Harry’s fault it was like this. It was Harry’s fault that he was out. It was Harry’s fault that Draco was a werewolf. 

Everything was Harry’s fault.

And now Draco wanted to hide it. Hide them. He was ashamed – ashamed of Harry.

The voice wouldn’t stay quiet, even when Harry clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut. It seemed to flutter around his head like billywigs.

Nargles, he supposed.

He understood why Luna hated them.

*

Draco was right about one thing – everyone assumed that the angry red mark on the side of Harry’s face was caused by Blaise Zabini.

“Is it true, Harry – is it true?” Colin Creevey, who had barely spoken a word to Harry since he had come out, was suddenly right in front of him with his camera raised as they sat at breakfast.

“Is what true?” Harry pushed the camera down, shovelling a cereal into his mouth.

“That you put Zabini in the hospital wing? Is it true – it’s true isn’t it?”

“No way, mate,” Ron spoke around his toast.

“Of course it isn’t true – Harry – it’s not, is it?” Hermione asked. She was still pointedly ignoring Ron.

Harry shrugged.

“Did he give you that?” Colin’s camera flashed, leaving Harry blinded. As the spots cleared from his vision, he caught Draco’s eye at the Slytherin table. Draco raised his eyebrows, smirking at Harry. Harry smirked back and rolled his eyes.

“No comment,” Harry said.

“ _Harry_!” Hermione was glaring at him. “You’ll get detention for that – at least – I can’t believe – why would you pick a fight with Blaise Zabini of all people?”

Harry shrugged, Draco’s words coming back to him from the night before. He bit his lip. “He was annoying me – going on about Grindlewald and stuff.”

“Really?” Ginny slipped in next to him. “Or was he annoying Draco.”

“So Luna told you,” Harry muttered.

Hermione’s glares redoubled, but Lavender Brown had just arrived, which meant she shut her mouth and glared into her scrambled eggs, and Ron’s eyebrows flew upwards.

“Luna tells me everything,” Ginny grinned at him. “And I tell you – if someone was messing with her, well I’d-“

“Well no one will mess with you, will they?” Ron snapped. “Because-“

He caught Harry’s stare and watched as Harry shook his head slightly. He swallowed the end of his sentence.

“Because what, Ronald? Because they like to see two girls make out?”

Harry was sure that he heard Colin’s jaw hit the floor when he realised what was happening. His stomach clenched for Ginny, but she didn’t seem to care. Technically, he told himself, they hadn’t told her Luna’s secret.

But it was still out.

How had their situations reversed so quickly?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N): Thanks so much for all of the comments and follows and all that!
> 
> ALSO we're still not out of the woods with the angst, folks. But it should only be for another chapter or two.
> 
> I also just want to mention why I didn't go into detail with Draco and basically the reason was that they needed privacy? It sounds stupid, lmao, because they're just characters, but I just wanted to step away and give them that. (Examples for what I'm talking about are in Eleanor and Park by Rainbow Rowell and the latest Series of Unfortunate Events season on Netflix?)
> 
> But yeah, I hope you enjoyed it, please leave a comment and I'll see you soon. xx


	10. 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N): Just a quickie - chips in this chapter is good old English chips - like french fries but fatter. Not crisps.  
> That's all - please enjoy! x

10

Snape had cornered Harry at the beginning of his Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson. He was bearing the indifferent face of detention and Harry didn’t bother to say it wasn’t him.

“My office. Seven. Every night this week.” He snarled.

“But Draco Malfoy jinxed me too,” Harry said, pointing to the angry red mark on his cheek. “Shouldn’t he get a detention too?” he paused, then added for good luck. “Professor.”

Snape didn’t even hesitate. “You wish, Potter.”

Still, a week’s detention wasn’t expulsion and that was something.

He was lucky that was the only detention he had. Harry couldn’t seem to concentrate in class. His mind was full of Blaise’s words. All of them. A part of him was dying to go to Dumbledore – to ask just what that Grinldewald comment meant. Surely not – surely they hadn’t been –

It would be such a strange coincidence – with Sirius and Lupin as well –

Next thing, Hagrid will have been with Aragog all this time and Harry wouldn’t have picked up on it. All of the father figures in his life seemed to be gay, why would it be nonsensical?

But he couldn’t ask Dumbledore, because Dumbledore had disappeared from the castle again. Harry had a vague idea of where he was going now – to find objects special to Voldemort, or whatever. That didn’t help. A part of him didn’t want to care, to let Dumbledore do whatever he was doing, because he didn’t care about the Malfoys or anyone else at Hogwarts. But a larger part of him worried. Dumbledore was old, and although he had been highly questionable for the last year and a half, he meant well, Harry was sure.

That wasn’t the only part about what Blaise said that was playing on his mind. He kept thinking about that phrase – that it was all his fault. It was true. He had felt that way about Mr Weasley’s death. He still did, to some extent. Because if he wasn’t Harry Potter it wouldn’t have happened. If he wasn’t the chosen one, if he was just an ordinary kid –

None of this would have happened.

If he’d told the Sorting Hat to put him in Slytherin, then it would have been fine. It would have been like Dean and Seamus. They could have kept it a secret.

It was all because of him. It was because he had dragged Draco into this that things had gotten the way that they were. There were a thousand times he could have changed things – got Draco out of this.

But he hadn’t. He had been selfish.

Maybe Blaise was right. Maybe he didn’t care what he had done. At least, maybe he didn’t care at the time. He seemed to have ignored every warning sign.

It didn’t help that everything was going back to how it used to be – exchanged glances in the Great Hall and walking parallel to each other in the hallways. It only gave him more time to mull over it. It only made him feel as though he had been correct before – that Draco was ashamed of this. Of them.

“Merlin’s beard, Harry – stop staring at him like a kicked puppy,” Hermione snapped. She still hadn’t made things up with Ron. The whole Slughorn’s party and her going with McLaggen had only made everything worse.

“He wouldn’t go with me, would he?”

“What?”

“Slughorn’s party.”

“Probably not, since you’re not meant to be together,” Hermione said. They stopped outside of charms. He could see Ron and Lavender at the front of the queue. Hermione faced away from them, looking up at Harry. That was fine, his eyes were watching Draco walk away anyway. “There’ll be enough trouble anyway – three guesses who Ginny’s bringing.”

“What does it matter if she brings Luna?”

Hermione shook her head. “The same that would happen to you and Draco. Just because they’re girls-“

“Ginny’s right – no one cares.”

“No one cares _yet_ ,” Hermione said. “You just wait until Colin Creevey passes his information around.”

Harry stayed quiet then. Her words had made his stomach twist.

Would that be his fault too? He figured that it was. If he hadn’t have lost his temper – if he had listened to Draco and kept his mouth shut – then maybe the conversation wouldn’t pan out the way it had. Maybe not.

The only thing he kept coming back to was that it was undeniably his fault that him and Draco were in this position. It was certainly his fault that Arthur Weasley was dead and that Draco was a werewolf. That was his fault.

_You singlehandedly ruined his life and he doesn’t even care._

“Anyway,” Hermione continued, as the class filed back into the room. “I need you to do me a favour. I have more elf hats, but they won’t take them.”

“Because they don’t want to be free, Hermione.”

“I was thinking, if they came from you, from the Chosen One, maybe they’d accept them. Would you take them down to the kitchens for me?”

Harry stopped so suddenly that Dean Thomas walked into him. He frowned at Hermione – an idea had just struck him like lightning.

“The kitchens?” he repeated.

Hermione frowned back at him. Flitwick cleared his throat at the front of the line, and she grabbed his arm, pulling him along next to her.

The kitchens. Why hadn’t Harry thought of it before? Of course, it would be impossible to do all the time – people would notice if he was missing from the Great Hall. But the odd day that Harry Potter didn’t show up for dinner? No one would be the wiser.

They might _notice_ , he supposed, but he could always lie and say that he didn’t feel very well. Even the Chosen One got sick sometimes.

It was fool proof.

He had said it before, many times, but this time he was _sure_ of it. This time, there couldn’t be as many repercussions as before. It wasn’t even breaking any rules, technically. At least, it wasn’t breaking any rules that Harry was aware of.

So that evening he told Hermione to cover for him. She pouted at him and told him that she hadn’t meant for him to disappear _during_ dinner. She had meant for him to sneak down one evening, and now he was going to leave her sitting at dinner all alone.

Harry told her to sit with Ginny. He had meant it as a passing comment as she headed into the Great Hall. Really, though, he was worried. He was worried that Ginny’s coming out wouldn’t go according to her plan at all. He wanted to stand by her – just as she had stood by him and threatened to jinx anyone who went near him. But a part of him didn’t want to see either. He didn’t want to see the heartbreak on her face that things hadn’t gone according to plan. Things always went according to Ginny Weasley’s plan.

Then he lurked. He hated how he had gotten used to lurking and waiting. Not that he was very good at lurking – most people stopped to wave at him. Either to smile or smirk. More smiles than smirks now, at least, but he found the smiles left bile in the back of his throat. The smiles were fake.

He finally caught Draco’s eye, and shoved off from the wall. He stopped himself just before he called to him, jerking his head towards the staircases leading down.

Draco nodded and looked away. He turned to Nott, but Harry didn’t stay to watch, he slipped down the stars instead. A few stray Hufflepuff’s passed him and he pretended to be heading down the corridor, but his steps were slow.

Harry didn’t even hear him, but Draco was at his side moments later, his hand slipping into Harry’s back pocket.

“What are you up to, trouble?” he asked, his mouth brushing against Harry’s ear.

“I’ve got an idea,” Harry tried not to be too obvious as he took Draco’s wrist, putting his hand back to his side. “About where we could eat.”

“Oh, my saviour from the Great Hall,” Draco said.

Harry couldn’t help but smile. Draco had been losing his sarcasm, what with everything that had happened. It was good to see that he was feeling like himself again.

“Here,” Harry slowed in front of the fruit still life and tickled the pear. Draco’s hand found Harry’s waist again.

The portrait swung open to reveal the kitchens and Harry stepped inside, feeling, with some relief, Draco’s hand slip from him again. He hated that. He hated the twist in his stomach whenever Draco touched him now. He was meant to miss it. He was meant to revel in it.

But he couldn’t. Not with Blaise’s words in his head.

“Harry Potter!” an all too familiar voice greeted him as soon as he entered.

Oh no. He stared down at the tiny house elf in front of him. He had forgotten about that.

“Dobby.” It was hard to force a smile on his face.

“Dobby?” Draco asked incredulously from behind him, his hands settling back on Harry’s hips.

Dobby’s tennis ball eyes widened even further. His knees knocked together, as though he was about to keel over. His mouth moved, forming half of the word ‘mister’ and half of the word ‘Malfoy,’ but never quite forming either of them.

“Oh, no – Dobby – it’s okay. It’s alright – he’s a friend,” Harry stumbled over his words. He went on to say ‘he’s my boyfriend,’ but stopped himself. He wasn’t sure Dobby would understand. He wasn’t sure Dobby even understood the ‘friend’ part and he realised just how much explaining he would have to do.

Dobby continued staring at Harry and Draco for so long that Harry started to feel itchy.

But then, Dobby blinked and said. “Harry Potter, you have many friends, but you know who this is?”

“Yes,” Harry said.

The other house elves glanced at them, but they were busy putting food on plates, ready to send them upstairs. He noticed Winky in the corner, watching Dobby with drooping eyes.

Dobby was still looking from between him and Draco, his bat ears flapping slightly, as though he was caught in a light wind.

Harry felt Draco swallow against him.

“Why don’t you set your plan into motion?” Draco murmured. His hands squeezed his hips for a moment. before he stepped around him. He cleared his throat, glancing at Harry for a moment, before he crouched down to Dobby’s height.

Harry stepped away, wanting to give Draco some privacy. He asked one of the house elves softly if they could eat here. He said that they’d been having some trouble upstairs. The house elves nodded, though they still looked nervous and confused. They might not have been able to say no – they couldn’t, Harry realised.

He sighed, instead saying, “look, let us eat down here, and I’ll get Hermione to stop leaving those hats in the common room.”

They blinked at him for a moment longer, then glanced at each other.

“They were _hats_?” one squeaked.

Harry laughed at that. He took the opportunity to slide a plate of chips(!!) off of the table. He could hear Draco talking to Dobby.

“My father is not around anymore. He’s in Askaban. I don’t know what happened to the other house elves.”

“Will you send them to Hogwarts?” Dobby asked.

“I don’t-“ Draco paused as Harry crouched next to him. “I don’t live there, anymore.”

“Did you apologise?” Harry asked, holding the plate out.

Draco gave him a withering look that doubled when he saw the plate of chips. He still took one though, holding it as though it was a worm. “I explained that my father’s methods were extreme.”

“That’s not apologising,” Harry crossed his legs, resting the plate on his knee.

“I’m not – Potter, he’s a house elf.”

“Apologise to me on Dobby’s behalf then. He tried to kill me for a better part of a year because of you lot.”

“Dobby was not _trying_ to kill, Harry Potter. Just send him home for the year.”

“The idea has merit, you must admit,” Draco was almost purring, sliding next to Harry and leaning against him like a cat.

Dobby still looked completely concerned and utterly confused, which only made Harry laugh harder. For the first time in the last week, he leant back against Draco.

This was absurd. A year ago, if someone had told him he would be eating chips on the floor of the kitchen with Draco Malfoy, he would have laughed. Well, he was laughing now, but this was a happy kind of laugh. The kind of laugh that made him forget, just for a bit, everything that was sat so heavily on his shoulders.

It was almost like it used to be. It was almost like summer.

*

“You don’t kiss me anymore.”

They were squeezed into a window ledge in one of the corners of the castle. Rain battered on the window outside, making the glass shake in its frame. No one usually came down here, and sitting in a chilly corridor at night was preferable to sitting in a classroom. Peeves had a habit of phasing through the walls of them – throwing chalk and stink pellets at any students he caught making out and it reminded them too push of homework they were struggling to find time for.

People looked in classrooms, anyway. No one looked down this corridor – it ended in a dead end. They were less likely to be found sat down here.

Because that was what it was all about now. It was back to hiding. Back to staying up late, waiting to meet each other in a dark corridor, ears out for any sign of trouble. There was always a tense knot in Harry’s stomach when they sat like this. They could be found so easily.

“I do,” Harry said, but his eyes were on his feet. He nudged Draco’s feet with his own.

“You don’t. Not properly,” Draco paused, then, before Harry could reply, he nudged his knuckles against Harry’s cheek. “I’ll show you – kiss me now.”

Harry blinked, forcing himself to look up to meet Draco’s eyes. Easy, he thought. He kissed Draco all the time. He could kiss him now. He leant forward – they were almost chest to chest in the space.

_You singlehandedly ruined his life and he doesn’t even care. You don’t even care._

He stopped, his mouth hovering above Draco’s. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t pretend like everything was okay. Not when it was his fault.

“See?” Draco’s hand was still under Harry’s chin. His thumb made small rubbing movements. “Can you not stomach it now?”

“I don’t want to not kiss you,” Harry mumbled. It felt as though his throat was closing up – like the words didn’t want to escape him. “It’s-“

“Zabini. Do you want to kiss him instead?” Draco was joking, Harry could tell by his smirk.

“Absolutely not,” Harry gave a breathless laugh.

“You’re still thinking about what he said. Tell me.”

“No,” Harry said. He squeezed off of the window ledge, running his hands through his hair.

“Hypocrite.”

“I don’t know _how_.”

Draco had hold of the back of his robe, and he tugged Harry back to him, wrapping himself firmly around his waist. He rested his face on the small of Harry’s back. “I told you _my_ emotional turmoil.”

Harry paused. He held Draco’s arms around him, watching a fork of lightning appear out of the window. It was easier when he didn’t have to look at him. He could do this.

“All he said was the truth-“

“He never speaks the truth.”

“It’s my fault. It’s my fault that everything is as fucked up as it is now.”

“We’ve _been_ through this, Potter,” Draco nuzzled into Harry’s back, his arms tightening. “There’s nothing you could have done to change it. _Nothing_. I promise.”

“But if I wasn’t the Chosen One,” Harry took a breath, closing his eyes. “It could have been someone else – Dumbledore said.”

“Who?”

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know – I told him not to tell me. Actually, I sort of snapped at him.”

“Good boy.”

Despite himself, Harry smiled. The words made his stomach leap. He wanted to turn around and kiss him, but he still felt shaky. There was still something in the back of his throat that wouldn’t disappear.

“You know the Chosen One is all nonsense, don’t you?” Draco said. He sounded tired. “It’s just something the Daily Prophet made up.”

“I’m still the one who has to kill Voldemort.”

“Even if you weren’t, my father would still be a Death Eater. Even if someone else had to do it, he’d still be…” Draco trailed off. He turned Harry round, so that he faced him. He hooked his fingers into his belt loops and rested his chin on his stomach. “You wouldn’t be able to change that.”

Harry kept his eyes closed. The words were louder now. He could basically see them behind his eyes.

“He said that I ruined your life and that you didn’t even care.”

“See - I told you he was lying,” Draco said. He waited for an answer, then he stood. His hands were cold on Harry’s face. “Potter, you _saved_ my life.”

No, that wasn’t right. That couldn’t be right. He tried to open his eyes – to see if Draco was smirking, but Draco’s thumbs brushed against his eyelids. He kept them closed, swallowing. The thing had grown. It was threatening to choke him.

“If you weren’t you – in all your stupid, aggravating valour – I wouldn’t be standing here with you. I’d be with my father. I’d be sat down in the Slytherin Common Room with Zabini and Crabbe and Goyle discussing whatever it is Voldemort’s told them to do. I bet I’d be looking forward to getting a mark on my arm.”

“No,” Harry whispered. The words were hard to get out. “You have a bite mark instead.”

“Being a werewolf is better than being a vampire,” Draco said. Harry opened his eyes to see Draco raise his eyebrows at him. He raised his own. That didn’t make him feel better. “It’s a few days a month. I think it’s worth it – to be free of _that_. I’m on the other side of the war. The right side. And my mother’s safe. I’m away from my father. And I’m with _you_.”

He pressed his forehead against Harry’s, leaning against him. Harry took the opportunity to close his eyes again. He didn’t trust his expression.

“If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be a werewolf.”

“If I weren’t, I’d be a Death Eater. I don’t want to be a Death Eater, Potter.”

Draco’s thumbs wiped away tears Harry didn’t even know escaped. He kissed him gingerly, as though he was scared Harry was going to pull away from him. He didn’t, but he didn’t kiss back, either.

“But you don’t want to be with me.”

“What makes you think that? I’m with you now.”

He did pull away then. He let Draco’s hands fall from him, stepping away. He crossed his arms, just for something to hold onto.

“Yeah. In secret.”

“You’re not making any sense.” There was a bite in Draco’s voice. He sat back against the windowsill with a sharp sigh, pushing white-blond hair away from his face.

“I don’t want to hide this – I don’t think it’s worth it. I just – don’t care what anyone else thinks. But I know you do. I know you don’t want people to know about us-“

“ _Mon dieu,_ this time, it’s not about you.” Draco looked up at him with the ghost of a smile. He looked like a ghost, sat there. “It wouldn’t matter which two boys were snogging each other in the corridor, it would be a problem. I thought this was easier. It’s less like reigning in a small dog that wants to fight anything that looks at it funny.”

“I wouldn’t be a small dog. I’d be a big dog.” Or a deer, Harry added.

“Only a small dog would say that,” Draco’s smirk twitched.

“I hate this. I hate being separate.”

That made the smirk disappear. A frown appeared in its place instead. “We don’t have to be together all the time, you know.”

“I _know_!” Harry matched Draco’s frown. “But if we want to be together, then we should be _allowed_ to. We should be allowed to go to Slughorn’s party like Hermione and McLaggen, then we should be _able_ to!”

Draco sighed again, leaning against the window. It was raining even harder now. So loud that it was getting hard to hear each other.

“We can’t do that.”

“I know. I know things are messed up with dorms and dinner and – everything, but-“ Harry went to push his hair back, again, but his fist remained locked there. “If I looked like Nott, would that change things?”

“Of course, it-“

There was a sudden meow. They both turned to the end of the corridor to see a familiar pair of red eyes watching them. Mrs Norris.

Harry swore first, diving into his bag to pull out his invisibility cloak on impulse.  It was time to leave. They had to make themselves scarce before Filch appeared.

“Honey,” Draco’s hand was on his wrist, and he was suddenly kissing Harry before he was even aware of it. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Yeah,” Harry whispered. He could barely get words around the thing that was stuck in his throat.

Draco was disappearing down the dark of the hallway as if he hadn’t even been there in the first place. Harry watched him until he wasn’t even a white shape in the darkness, tugging the invisibility cloak around him.

The rain hissed and lashed outside as he side stepped Mrs Norris. Her eyes followed him, and he could hear Filch wheezing as he raced down the corridor to the source of trouble. But he knew Filch couldn’t see him. He ducked into an alcove for safe measure, leaning against the wall and taking a breath.

Okay, he might have changed things for Draco. He might have ‘saved’ him from being a ‘Death Eater.’ It might not even matter to Draco that he was a werewolf. It didn’t, really, to Harry. It wasn’t so much that he _was_ a werewolf – it was the pain that he was going through that Harry couldn’t stand. But at least Narcissa Malfoy was safe. And at least Draco didn’t have a Dark Mark on his arm.

That didn’t change the fact that they had to hide constantly. It didn’t change the fact that Draco had said ‘of course’ when Harry asked if things would be different if he looked like Nott. Maybe it was just because he was a Slytherin.

Or maybe Harry had been right all along.

*

Ron had seemed faintly horrified that Harry wasn’t taking anyone to Slughorn’s party, and a part of Harry suspected that it was because he wasn’t _taking_ Ron. He probably should, but he was scared that bringing him would result in a fight between him and McLaggen. Or him and Hermione. Or some kind of three-way fight.

There was no one else he could take, or no one else that he _wanted_ to take.

He didn’t even want to go to the damn thing.

But whispers had begun to follow Ginny down the corridor. They always silenced when she sent the crowds a fiery look. Harry noticed that she didn’t sit so close to Ginny when they were studying now. There were less touches between them, as though the eyes following them were keeping them apart.

Well, the eyes were keeping them apart.

Harry hated that. He hated that they had so quickly turned into him and Draco. So that was the reason he was going. He had to be there in case things got out of hand for them. Ron had been too distracted with Lavender to really pay attention, and Harry was sure that even if he did mention it, he would get his head bitten off. That just left Harry to step up and be Ginny’s big brother.

They walked there together. Ginny and Luna’s hands were entwined, though only the tips of their fingers touched. They were ready to break apart at the first sign of trouble.

Ginny had a brave face on. Luna gave Harry a sad smile.

“I don’t get why people are suddenly being dicks about it now,” Ginny muttered as they headed up the staircases.

Luna glanced at Harry with large, grey eyes. For once, they seemed clear – she was actually in the room and paying attention. She looked scared. She needn’t be – Harry wasn’t about to give her away.

He shrugged instead. “Weird.”

Ginny glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “Have you and Draco been fighting again?”

“No,” Harry said it too quickly and he cleared his throat to cover it up. “Why – why do you ask?”

“You haven’t seen a lot of him lately.”

It was true. He hadn’t seen a lot of Draco and he wasn’t trying to pin it on that one sort-of argument. They had only been passing each other in the hall. Sometimes Draco didn’t appear in the Great Hall  and Harry suspected he was using the kitchens instead. Maybe he could have gone down there and met him. He didn’t have the courage – there was irony in that, he knew.

Besides, where there was Draco, there was Nott. As much as Harry liked him as a friend, the question still swirled around in his head.

_If I looked like Nott, would that change things?_

Slughorn’s office was lit with red lamps and the enchantments on the wall made it feel like they were in a red tent. There was a warm tinge to everything – like looking through a Quality Street wrapper, Harry supposed. It was alarming seeing everyone with slightly crimson skin and burgundy. It made the insides of people’s mouths look too dark and their eyes look like small holes.

As they entered, he was, predictably, accosted by Slughorn. Without a partner, he was subjected to small talk with a bunch of wizards who shook his hand too tightly and for too long. They grinned at him more like he was an animal in a zoo rather than a student.

“Alone, Harry?” Slughorn asked the moment some wizard who had written a book on vampires had walked away. Harry wondered what would happen if he had said his boyfriend was a werewolf.

The question made his insides squirm. It was such a direct translation of ‘any girls in your life?’ – a question Rita Skeeter had asked too often. It had made him cringe then and now he had all the more reason to.

“Most of my friends were already coming,” he said tactfully instead. “Like Hermione – oh, look, there she is! I’d better say hi.”

He pushed through the crowd blindly. He hadn’t seen Hermione – he had no idea where Hermione might be – but he knew he had to find some air in this office. The smell of the food at the side of the room was heavy in the air, sitting in his stomach and refusing to move. There was music playing and it seemed too loud in Harry’s ears – as if it was coming from inside his head instead of outside.

A hand grabbed his elbow and he almost jumped straight out of his skin.

But there was Hermione. A harassed looking Hermione, ducking behind him and telling him that McLaggen was completely unbearable.

“Well, I could have told you that,” he said. “At least you haven’t been carted around like a show pony all night.”

“Maybe if you’d brought someone with you-“

“Who, Hermione?”

“I don’t know, Parvati or someone.”

“The last time I took Parvati to a dance, I don’t think either of us had a good time.”

“ _Someone_ would have gotten you out of it,” Hermione tugged on Harry’s arm. “Stay with me?”

Harry sighed and rolled his eyes, but secretly he was more than happy too. They found a corner of the room that was nowhere near Trelawny or Snape, but close to the punch. Hermione stayed half-hidden behind Harry, squeaking whenever McLaggen got too close, or she recognised a famous wizard.

It wasn’t enough to ward off Slughorn. Harry fought hard to keep the smile on his face as he was asked about his future. He didn’t think ‘I just want to stay alive for the next year’ counted as an answer. Instead, he mumbled something about being an auror.

Luna appeared then, mentioning something about conspiracy theories surrounding aurors. There was an awkward silence in the group.

“I mean, you’re right about one thing, Luna,” Hermione said. “Harry, you’d make a much better teacher.”

There was a secret smile there, mixed in with the genuine one. Harry laughed – genuinely, but it sounded forced, still. He didn’t think he would be a good teacher. Meeting up in secret and telling people to stupefy each other was one thing – but being responsible for students? The idea was ludicrous.

“Funny you should mention that, Miss Granger,” Slughorn was saying. “Professor Snape was telling me that last year there was a Defence Against the Dark Arts Club, against the school rules, I may add – and that Mr Potter was called to good old Dumbledore’s office about it.”

Well, Harry wanted to add, that and being found behind a tapestry with Draco Malfoy.

He was saved from a reply, however, by Filch’s arrival. Everyone paused as he started shouting about a gate-crasher. There was a ripple of murmurs and a fair amount of disgust aimed that way.

But then Harry heard a sharp voice ring out.

“I’m telling you, I do have an invitation,” he sounded calm, so unbelievably calm. But that was how he always sounded when he was doing something like this.

It couldn’t be.

Harry’s heart was in his mouth as he pushed through the crowd at Slughorn’s side to Filch.

It was.

Draco Malfoy pointed at Harry, an all too familiar smirk on his face.

_“Potter_ invited me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N): And that's all the angst for now (for now!)  
> Thanks so much for all of the support!! Please leave a comment telling me what you think and I'll see you all next week (hopefully!) xx


	11. 11

11

“What do you mean, Mr Potter invited you? Why didn’t you arrive together?”

Draco didn’t even look fazed – he didn’t even pause. “I’m fashionably late.”

“Is this true, Mr Potter?” Slughorn rounded on Harry, a flesh coloured blob in the corner of his vision. He could only see Draco – everything around him seemed blurry. “Did you really invite Mr Malfoy?”

“Um,” Harry had forgotten what words were. He felt like he had a year ago, when his mind had turned to cotton wool whenever Draco gave him that look. Whenever he was smirking like that, with his eyes glittering like he was part fae, Harry’s mind just gave up. “Yeah – I guess. I guess I did.”

“You guess?” Filch repeated.

 “Yeah, I invited Draco.” He tried again, trying to sound sure of himself.

“As eloquent as ever, Potter,” Draco still had that smirk on his face, and it only ruined Harry’s train of thought more. He felt as though his face was burning. “So, as you can see, I _do_ have an invitation, so, if you don’t mind, I’ll be enjoying the party.”

He flashed that charming smile at Filch as he slipped from his grasp. He did look like a fairy, in this light. The red made his eyes look dark and his skin glow. Draco stepped in front of Harry, his smirk softening into a genuine smile before he wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist. He was so firm – so confident, in his actions.

Harry hugged him back, still feeling completely numb.

“Sorry I’m late, honey,” Draco whispered in his ear. “I had to make an entrance.”

“Um,” Harry couldn’t think straight. This wasn’t happening – this _couldn’t_ be happening. “It’s okay?”

Draco pulled away then, but he was still so close to Harry. Too close for him to form words.

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” Draco’s voice was still low, and his eyes were on Harry’s mouth. He was sure, if they weren’t standing in the middle of a crowded party, Draco would have kissed him. He wanted to kiss Draco. More than anything.

But surely Draco wasn’t going to kiss him. Not here. Not so out in the open.

“Well, I must say, this is quite the surprise – made our little party quite exciting, didn’t it?” Slughorn was still talking. He sounded like a bee buzzing in Harry’s ear. He saw Hermione glancing at him, then she was taking Luna’s arm and disappearing into the crowd. He wasn’t sure if it was to give them privacy or to escape Slughorn.

“Certainly, Professor.” Draco had switched on his charming mode. He had one hand on Harry’s waist still and that was all Harry could think about. Draco had his arm around Harry and they were in a crowded room.

“It’s Mr Malfoy, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Malfoy was suddenly asking if Slughorn knew this relative or that relative, or his father’s friend. He was sucking up to Slughorn, just like he used to with Snape.

Snape, who Harry caught staring at them out of the corner of his eye.

He glanced back at Draco, trying to catch his eye. He got the glimmer of a glance – a slight wink.

“-Wonderful that you two boys could come as friends.”

Harry tuned back into the conversation. He laughed awkwardly at that. He felt as though he didn’t fit next to Draco anymore.

“That’s not quite it,” Draco was still smiling and Harry’s heart dropped. Surely not. Surely he wasn’t about to just come out to Slughorn-

Someone called to him from across the room, and, like a hyperactive child, he was completely distracted.

Harry stepped away, his hand on Draco’s shoulder.

“Why are you here?” he asked. He hated how he sounded – like he was angry. He wasn’t angry, but he couldn’t put his finger on what he was feeling. He was completely relieved but also terrified.

“Because you didn’t have a plus one and its sad?” Draco said. “Because I love you?”

“But – you’re here,” Harry said. “And you’re coming out to – Slughorn?”

“Yes. Because you’ve been avoiding me.”

“I haven’t.”

“I can tell when you’re lying.” Draco squeezed Harry’s hand, the smirk appearing back on his face. “You’ve been avoiding me since that argument – so all that I could think about when I thought about you was that stupid argument. It really means a lot to you, doesn’t it?”

“Well – no, I mean, I get that you want to keep it – keep us, secret.” Harry ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t – I was being stupid, Draco-“

“No, you weren’t.” Draco’s expression was soft, like he was looking at something so fragile he could break it just by looking. “You’re just so blindly courageous.”

“Why do I feel like that’s an insult?” Harry frowned. He could hear music being turned up. People were starting to head to the spaces in the room, swaying like seaweed.

“Because I’m the one saying it,” Draco stepped closer to Harry to let a wizard past them. “But it’s also why I love you.”

“The only reason?”

“There are many-“ Draco leant forward slightly. “ _Many_ more.”

Harry found himself smiling, even though his stomach was wringing itself out like a wet flannel. People were dancing and that made him nervous. Draco was this close to him, and that made him nervous.

“I want to try some of that blind courage,” Draco’s voice had dropped. He was just talking to Harry, his voice an underbeat of the music. It was some loud pop music. Harry missed Muggle Christmas music at this time of year. “I want to stick with it this time, like you do.”

Harry had a handful of Draco’s blazer somehow. He didn’t even remember raising his hand. He suddenly didn’t feel so brave. He remembered all the times Draco would kiss him in front of people and how he would fall to pieces. So much for blind courage.

“I don’t – I’m not-“

“Oh, you get all flustered but that’s just because you’re head over heels for me.”

“Shut up.”

“Never,” Draco’s hand was on Harry’s waist. It seemed to fit better now. “It’s a lot easier now, anyway, since I’ve got my little guard dog.”

“Zabini’s backing off?” Harry found himself glancing around the room. He couldn’t spot the boy anywhere. “So – you’re saying that I was right to throw a few spells.”

“No.” But Draco was smiling. “And it’s not fixed everything. This isn’t going to be easy, Potter.”

“I don’t want you to be like you were before – when you weren’t eating, or, sleeping.”

“It won’t be,” Draco paused. “I’m willing to do this, to try it the Potter way, but I do have a condition.”

“Oh, yeah?” Harry raised an eyebrow, but his stomach was leaping.

“You’re not going to like it.”

“I beg to differ.” Harry knew Draco’s conditions by now. Normally they involved Draco’s mouth against his own and that was hardly a punishment.

“Mmmm,” Draco had a glint in his eye. “I want you to dance with me?”

“Dance with you?”

“Slow dance.”

“Fine.”

That finally made Draco’s smirk flicker. He raised an eyebrow at Harry and he laughed. He couldn’t say he was feeling comfortable again, but he was getting used to this. There weren’t as many yes on them now, not whilst everyone was distracted by the music.

“When are we going to have the chance to slow dance?” Harry asked.

Draco smiled wider, looking for a moment like a wolf. He shrugged and Harry felt for a moment like he’d been tricked. Try as he might, however, he couldn’t figure out where it was.

“Hide me,” Hermione was suddenly pushing past Draco’s back and ducking behind Harry “McLaggen’s found me.”

“Well, you did come here together,” Harry said.

Draco snorted. “Granger took _McLaggen_.”

“It was to annoy Ron,” Hermione sighed, looking over Draco’s shoulder fearfully. “But now he wants to dance and he has a terrible case of wandering hands. It’s disgusting really, that he thinks it’s okay to just grab my ass.”

“Because he’s _McLaggen_.” Draco’s voice was still scornful. “Honestly, you’d be better of taking a cave troll.”

“That’s just what I was thinking.”

Hermione stayed attached to Harry’s back, peering between his and Draco’s shoulders. She didn’t seem to be bothered that Draco’s hand was still firmly around Harry’s waist and that Harry had shifted his hand to hold Draco’s shoulder. It felt strange, being like this with other people around after so long. It was like walking out of the Common Room without a shirt. Like everyone was seeing something private.

But it also felt like there were fireworks going off in his chest. Draco wanted this. Draco was going to do this _for_ him, because he had wanted it. It made him feel guilty – it was selfish of him to ask this of Draco – after everything.

And yet, last week Draco had said Harry had _saved_ him. He was still struggling to get his head around that.

But maybe it was true. Thinking it made him feel like he was glowing.

He hadn’t ruined Draco’s life.

And Draco was ready to do this for him.

“My word – it’s Harry Potter!” the voice burst him from his reverie and he found his hand sandwiched between a middle-aged witch. She introduced herself to him with the tone of voice that made him feel like he should recognise her name. He didn’t.

Draco seemed to. He stepped in to the conversation, filling in her questions for Harry. Maybe he should have felt like he was a puppet, but he was just relieved that Draco was able to deal with it. He wasn’t an awkward, stumbling mess like Harry would be.

And if Draco was talking, then Harry could watch him. The red lights didn’t make him look eerie like it did everyone else. It made him look like some mythical creature made of light and Harry couldn’t believe that he could actually _touch_ him.

He zoned out again, his mind chasing its own tail in an attempt to come to terms with what was happening. He gave over to the part of him that just wanted to revel in Draco’s presence. He felt like a dog who’s master had just returned. He was at a party. With Draco Malfoy.

There was a dip in the conversation – Harry only noticed because Draco’s voice trailed off. He had been enjoying listening to his calm speech. He hadn’t heard Draco talking so casually for so long. But now there was a lull.

And there was that wolfish smile again.

“I’m sorry,” he said to the witch. “But I do believe this one owes me a dance.”

“What?” Harry squeaked. Draco had a firm grip on his arm, pulling him away from the tables loaded with food and drink.

“Is your memory really that awful?” Draco’s slowed his step, turning the brightness of that smile onto Harry now. “You just promised me a slow dance.”

“But-“ Harry paused. He didn’t have an argument. The music was slow, he could admit that and there were couples pulling each other close around them. He heard Slughorn’s jovial laugh and glanced over to see him tugging McGonagall up to the floor. “Here?”

“Where else? The corridor?”

“But-“

“Don’t tell me you can’t dance.”

A couple nudged into them. They were standing so close to each other that they were almost snogging on the dance floor.

“I can dance,” Harry snapped. “Better than you.”

Draco dipped his head forward. Harry didn’t pull away – he was a master at staying still and staring Draco out now – but he felt heat bloom across his cheeks.

“Prove it, Potter.” But Draco’s hand was already on his waist, pulling him close without warning. Harry’s hand was on his shoulder before he could blink and their hands were entwined.

“Who said you could lead?”

Draco just laughed. They were turning to the rhythm and Harry felt like they were snugly nestled between everyone. It felt like there were less eyes on them. Like there were just a single tree in a whole forest.

He wanted to glance around – to see if there were any sniggers or glares or something. He wanted to see who else was dancing so close. Most of the adults seemed to be joking around, laughing about it and taking the mickey. The students, however, seemed to be cuddling up to each other. For them, it seemed to be a romantic moment.

But he couldn’t pull his gaze away from Draco's silver gaze. It felt like he was enchanted, his body moving along in tandem of its own accord. It didn't feel like he was in control. It had the same dizzying glee that came when he was under the imperious curse, but he didn't want to break it. He'd happily stay like this forever.

Especially because Draco was looking at him like /that/ with glittering eyes. Like Harry was the one making them sparkle like that. Like Harry was glowing. That look made him feel breathless.

Because there were a dozen over guys here that Draco could look at like that. McLaggen, despite having the manners of a cave troll, was good-looking. Better looking than Harry at any rate.

Or Nott. Harry was sure Nott was around. He was part of the Slug Club too (!!) so he had to be. He was better looking than Harry, and a Slytherin and - just generally a decent guy.

And Draco had said...

The memory made Harry's stomach pitch forward. It broke the spell and he found that he could talk again.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked. His  voice sounded soft, barely audible over the music. Scared, he realised.

"Dancing with you? Because it's a party. And that's my condition for not keeping us a secret - watching you stumble your way around the dance floor."

"I haven't stumbled," Harry said. Draco's hand pulled him closer, letting someone pass behind him. "Yet. And you know that's not what I meant."

"I'm not a mindreader," Draco said and at Harry's raised eyebrow shrugged and added. "Okay, I guess I am."

Harry swallowed. He had just caught sight of Nott over Draco's shoulder.

"Last time we saw each other, did you really mean things would be different with..." his voice failed him again. He was trapped in those eyes again, his voice stolen.

"It would be different - we'd probably both be Death Eaters." Draco paused. "That's not what you meant either, is it?"

Harry didn't say anything, but he found his eyes free to move to the floor. His dress shoes looked shabby and scuffed compared to Draco's. He could practically see his own reflection in those.

"That doesn't mean we would do this," Draco said.

"But he's - Nott."

"Still jealous, are you? He's not you, you know. There's only one boy here I fell in love with." Draco's hand squeezed Harry's. It short-circuited him, he could only blink back at Draco. "He's not better looking than you.”

“How did you-“

“Mind reader, remember?” He squeezed Harry’s hand again.

“Blind, more like.”

“You really don’t see it, do you?” Another squeeze, but Harry didn’t look. Draco’s hand disappeared from his waist, and he nudged Harry’s chin upwards. His voice dropped even lower. “You look your partner in the eye when you dance, Potter.”

Harry searched Draco’s face – he seemed genuine. He opened his mouth to say something – anything – but he couldn’t find the words.

“You’re handsome, okay? Stop thinking you’re not,” Draco said. “Don’t listen to anyone who says otherwise.”

“Easier said than done,” Harry muttered.

“That’s why.”

“Hm?”

“That’s why I’m doing this.” Draco pulled him closer, so that their hips were nudging against each other. They had stopped moving now. The crowd moved around them like seaweed. “Because you’re _my_ chosen one and you deserve to feel like it.”

Harry was sure his heart had stopped. He was completely sure that he had died and gone to heaven, because that couldn’t be happening. Draco couldn’t have said those words to him.

There was a large lump in his throat. He couldn’t breathe. Maybe he _was_ dying. Maybe he was having a panic attack.

“Harry.” He could hear Draco’s voice, but he sounded far away. “Are you alright?”

He managed to shake his head. It felt like he had pins and needles going across his cheeks.

Draco was leading him out of the crowd, an arm around his shoulders. He couldn’t focus on anything or anyone around them. He was vaguely aware of hearing a teacher’s voice – Slughorn’s, he thought. Draco spoke, Harry could feel the rumble against his shoulder.

“Oh, Mr Malfoy, what a good friend you are.”

Then they were out in the corridor and the air was cold on Harry’s cheeks. He let himself be pulled into an alcove. Draco’s hands sent more prickles across his face. He was staring at Harry with wide eyes. Panicked, worried eyes, he realised.

“I just-“ the words stuck there, whispered in the space between them. “-You – I can’t.”

“Oh, _mon ange_.”

Harry was suddenly pressed into Draco’s chest. Draco’s hands had fistfuls of his blazer, and he was pressing his face against Harry’s neck so hard that it hurt.

“I just can’t believe you-“ Harry couldn’t catch his breath to get the words out, it all just came along in great, gulping gasps.

“Was that not right?” Draco asked, his mouth against Harry’s ear. “Is this not what you wanted?”

“Of course it is! Of course it’s right, I mean – I – I love you.”

It felt like the first time that he had said it.

“I love you too.” Draco kissed his temple. “Harry.”

He pressed himself closer to Draco, wrapping his arms around him. This must be heaven. Every part of him seemed to be humming. He felt as though he could fly. The niggling voices in his head had quietened.

There was only Draco’s voice saying ‘you’re _my_ chosen one.’

*

Harry wasn’t sure how long they had been sat in the alcove before they heard the voices. But he became aware of low murmurings coming from a door down the hall. He listened to them for more time, trying to figure out if they were in his head or real. It felt like he was asleep, or like he had just woken up from a dream.

“That sounds like Snape,” Draco murmured. His hand was running through Harry’s hair, his fingers lifting up thick strands of hair and letting them fall back.

“Mmm,” Harry was listening to Draco’s heartbeat. That was how he decided he wasn’t dreaming. He could feel it against his ear. “You want to investigate.”

“Do you want to investigate?”

“No,” He buried his face into Draco’s shirt. He had missed that smell. He had to stop missing Draco. “But we should, shouldn’t we?”

“We should,” Draco kissed the top of Harry’s head, easing him back up into a sitting position. His blood rushed to his head. “I’ll make it worth your while, _mon ange._ ”

“That’s my new pet name now?” Harry linked their fingers. It was a half-hearted attempt to get Draco to sit back down, but he ended up being pulled to his feet.

“What do you mean?”

“Trouble, Harry, honey, _ange,_ Potter-“

“Potter’s not a pet name.”

“It is the way you say it.”

“Sshh,” Draco nudged their hips together. He placed a finger to his lips as they stood outside the door. There were definitely voices coming from inside. Harry tried to tune in to them, but his eyes were on Draco’s mouth. He loved him – he loved him so much for doing this and he didn’t know how to show him.

“-Want the job done right, use Malfoy. Wasn’t that what using Greyback was all about? Teach him were his loyalties lie.”

So that was where Blaise Zabini had slithered off to.

“Do not presume you know the Dark Lord’s plans.”

“Didn’t work, did it? Stuck to Potter’s side like glue now. Never coming round to our side.”

“It should not make a difference to you what Mr Malfoy is doing. You have your own task to worry about.”

“Don’t have Nott to help either – since he’s wrapped around Potter’s finger too.“

“If you are implying that you are not capable of seeing if through-“

“Of course I am!”

“I can always-“

“I don’t need your help!”

There was a silence. Harry wrapped his arms around Draco, learning into him. He was scared to let him go. It felt as though if he let him go, Draco would disappear. It would all be a dream.

“It seems to me that you do.”

But Draco was already pulling Harry away from the door, his grip tight enough to hurt. He heard footsteps from the other side of the door and began to panic. They would be caught – why hadn’t he thought to bring his invisibility cloak? He should always carry his invisibility cloak.

He was smashed against the wall by the time the door opened and Draco’s mouth was on him. It made everything else disappear in a snap. There was just Draco’s hands firmly on his waist and his mouth pushing back against his.

Draco paused after a moment, just enough for Harry to hear footsteps heading down the corridor. Blaise must have been angry – very angry, if he hadn’t noticed the two of them. He was tempted to turn and watch the boy’s retreat, but then Draco was kissing him again. There was a desperate hunger in it that made Harry feel dizzy.

His mind was a mess. If Draco wasn’t careful, he really was going to have a heart attack.

“No public displays of affection in the corridor, Mr Malfoy,” Snape’s voice drawled from somewhere far away.

Draco pulled away from Harry slightly, freezing. Harry couldn’t feel his breath on his face, even though he was struggling to gulp air.

“Sorry professor,” Draco’s fingers tightened on Harry’s hips. He didn’t trust himself to look up – he didn’t think he could meet Snape’s eye like this – with messy hair and red cheeks. He would be mortified if he could think straight. “The party – it’s – everyone’s doing it in there.”

“Really?” Snape’s tone made it clear that he didn’t approve of _any_ public displays of affection and was certainly on his way to shut it all down.

Draco nodded. He hadn’t turned around, staring at a point in the wall behind Harry’s head.

“You’d also do well not to eavesdrop, Mr Malfoy,” Snape hadn’t even broke his stride. He kept walking down the corridor like a dementor, ready to prey on anyone remotely having fun. Harry clenched his fists, gathering handfuls of Draco’s shirt. He knew – they were in for it now.

“I only eavesdrop to conversations worth listening to, Professor,” Draco called after Snape. But he only took a breath when the door to Slughorn’s office had closed again. He looked down at Harry. For a moment they stood there, panting.

“How did we get away with that?” Harry whispered.

“Because teenagers making out to Snape is _expecto patronum_ to dementors,” Draco said. “And I was telling the truth – there was nothing all that interesting about that. We knew Zabini was working for the Dark Lord.”

“Snape’s in on it.” The sentence made Harry sober up. He was starting to feel clearer headed now. It was easier to talk about Voldemort than to dwell on his own feelings.

“Obviously.”

Harry paused, realising Draco’s shirt. He smoothed out the wrinkles, still amazed that he could feel a real Draco underneath it. “Whose side is he on, Draco?”

“Everyone says Dumbledore’s.” Draco was watching him like he would disappear if he blinked.

“But whose really?”

“I don’t know, Harry.”

They didn’t say anything more. Draco tucked a hand into Harry’s, guiding him back along the corridor. The castle was deserted. Silvery moonlight shone in through the windows, making everything seem even more ethereal.

He didn’t need to say anything to Draco. He knew they were headed to the Gryffindor Tower and when they reached it he whispered the password to the Fat Lady. She mumbled something akin to ‘oh, so _he’s_ here again, is he,’ but let them both through.

The two of them fell asleep fully clothed, but Harry couldn’t remember the last time he had had such a good night’s sleep.

That was, until Ron was smacking him over the head with a pillow and rudely pulling him out of sleep’s grip. For a horrible, stomach swooping moment, he thought all of Slughorn’s party _had_ been a dream. That he hadn’t seen Draco at all.

But then there was a familiar arm blocking his head from anymore attacks.

“If you two don’t hurry, you’ll miss the blooming train,” Ron was saying. Harry opened an eye to see him half dressed and hopping as he was trying to put one sock on. He groaned and leant back into Draco.

“Five more minutes,” he mumbled.

“C’mon, trouble-“

“Not you too.”

Draco chuckled. He pushed Harry’s fringe away from his face, kissing his forehead - half on the lightning bolt and half off. Then he cupped Harry’s face, looking at him seriously.

“Don’t you want to see Sirius?”

The reminder didn’t make Harry bolt out of bed, but it did make him sit up and start to _think_ about getting ready. He peeled his shirt off, kicking a t-shirt off of the floor. He had forgotten to pack, but he was sure Draco would have a spell for it.

“I thought you were staying at the Burrow,” Ron said. He was sat on his suitcase in an attempt to buckle it shut. “Dumbledore said, and all that – mum wanted you there too.”

“And Draco?” Harry asked.

“Him too.”

“I’ll pass, thanks,” Draco said, reappearing with a slightly different button up shirt on.

“The Burrow’s nice, you’d like it there,” Ron said.

“Lots of space?”

“We’d make room.”

“I meant outside?”

“Oh, yeah, tons.”

“Space enough for a wolf?”

Ron slipped off of his trunk, not replying and not looking Draco in the eye.

“With wolfsbane, it’s really just like having a dog,” Harry said.

“Shut up, Potter.”

“A nice, big fluffy dog,” he continued.

“I said shut it, Potter.”

“Or what?” Harry nudged Draco with his foot, grinning up at him. “Malfoy?”

Draco smirked. He leant down towards him, his hands pinning Harry to the bed. He leant close. “You’re in my debt already,” he kissed him, his mouth moving slowly to drag out his words. “Don’t forget you owe me a slow dance.”

“I already danced with you.”

Draco was away from him in a moment, pulling his wand out of his blazer pocket from last night and flicking it through the air.

“Not for a whole song. You got all emotional halfway through.”

“This is why I don’t do emotions,” Harry said.

“Hypocrite.”

Draco’s trunk appeared in the room moments later, when he was already making Harry’s clothes fold themselves and fly into his battered one. Ron muttered something about Draco being a ‘show-off,’ which only made him laugh and tease Ron more.

But it was a distraction as they headed downstairs. People didn’t look twice at Draco – out of uniform it wasn’t so obvious who he was. The people that did recognise him simply murmured to each other and rolled their eyes. That wasn’t what Harry was focused on. He was focused on Blaise and Snape and what this special task was. He was focused on the words that seemed to be tattooed behind his eyelids –

 _You’re_ my _chosen one and you deserve to feel like it._

“You abandoned me!” Hermione’s indignant voice came from behind them. “You left me all alone with-“ she broke off when she spotted Ron with them, and swallowed down the name. “Slughorn.”

“Sorry, Granger, but Potter had a debt to pay,” Draco said. He raised an eyebrow at Harry. “A debt he _still_ has to pay.”

Harry rolled his eyes. He should have a snappy comeback. But dancing with Draco – he could suffer it again.

“Date not work out how you planned?” Ron smiled, but there was no warmth in it.

“It went brilliantly, thank you.” Hermione said. Harry wouldn’t have believed her, even if he didn’t know the truth. “Only I was stuck chatting to teachers for half the evening because these two _vanished_.”

“I needed some air,” Harry said. It wasn’t _really_ a lie. “I was getting sick of all those pretentious twats talking to me.”

“I was talking to you,” Draco said.

“My point exactly,” Harry gave him a mischievous smile. It was infectious. Draco was half-smiling.

“Anyway, Harry,” Ron stressed his name as they headed down the stairs. “I really think you should come back to the Burrow-“ it must have been like a slap in the face for Hermione. “Something happened with Ginny. She won’t tell me about it, but she came back early from the party last night. I was sat up with her half the night. You didn’t see anything, did you?”

“We left quite early,” Harry faltered. He glanced to Hermione, but she was pointedly looking forward. Her cheeks were two bright spots of red.

“It would mean a lot to her if you came and stayed, I’m sure. And, you know, you didn’t come back over Summer.”

Harry did know and his stomach twinged like there was a knife turning in there. The implication was obvious – he hadn’t been to the Burrow since Mr Weasley’s death.

“I’ll send you an owl,” he said. He was sure Draco was a mind reader, with the way his hand automatically gripped Harry’s. “I’ll come down for a few days, maybe a week or something.”

He wanted to mean it, because he was genuinely worried about Ginny. He knew Colin Creevey wouldn’t be able to keep his mouth shut. It wouldn’t have just been people talking. Party or not, Ginny would have cursed their tongues to toffee and thought nothing of it.

But there wasn’t a lot else he could think of it being.

Unless she had found out what Luna had been up to – why no one had batted an eyelid at them.

He couldn’t imagine the volcano that would erupt if that happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N): This chapters a day late! Basically, I've been doing work for my brother because he said he'd pay me and, well, I don't get paid for fanfiction...(One day, you know, maybe...)  
> But we're finally back into fluff! I hope you guys all enjoyed this chapter and I'll (hopefully) see you all next week!  
> Oh, and thank you for all the lovely comments!


	12. 12

12

Harry didn’t ever want to let go of Sirius.

As soon as he had opened the door and seen Harry standing there, he had him in a hug so tight that Harry could barely breathe. That was fine. Harry didn’t really need to breathe, anyway.

But then the moment was over and Sirius was asking him question after question.

“Are you okay? Have there been any problems? How are coping with the full moon-“ at this one, he was hugging Draco, who froze completely. He looked shocked at the contact. “You two just dropped off the face of the earth after Halloween, it wouldn’t kill you to call-“

“I recall you telling me the mirror was only for emergencies,” Lupin appeared in the hallway behind Sirius. His face was warm and he smiled at the two of them.

“Oh, like you weren’t worried.” Sirius rolled his eyes and leant into Lupin. Harry smiled. He hadn’t realised quite how much he’d missed them.

“Come in, you two, it’s freezing out there.”

They stepped inside Grimmauld Place gratefully. It was almost another house. Both Sirius and Lupin had obviously been working hard to restore it. Or, rather, modernise it. The ugly wallpaper and carpets were gone, replaced with hardwood and painted walls. It made the whole house feel a lot lighter and a lot bigger.

There was also muffled screaming coming from the covered painting. It seemed the Mrs Black had moved on from screaming about blood traitors.

Sirius noticed Harry’s look.

“Yeah, that started happening when I called down ‘I love you’ to Lupin.” Sirius said.

“And I told you, all I did was pick up some milk. You didn’t have to scream that loudly. If you hadn’t, she wouldn’t have heard.”

“You saved my life.”

Sirius was looking at Lupin in a very familiar way. It was a very soft gaze. The kind of gaze that Draco gave Harry.

Then he spotted Harry’s scarf and frowned. It was Draco’s. Harry had stolen it, much like Draco’s gloves. He liked stealing Draco’s clothes. The ones that weren’t ridiculously formal, anyway. And the scarf still smelt of Draco, he could duck him chin down and it was like Draco was hugging him.

“What happened to house pride?” Sirius asked.

Harry wanted to say something witty in reply – he knew that his father would have a quip prepared. He didn’t, however, he just managed to shrug and smile and try not to spontaneously combust. Sirius’ face fell slightly, but then he was clapping them on the shoulders and saying “the kettle just boiled.”

The kitchen had still had the old black oven taking up most of it. It still had the scrubbed wooden table. But it felt lighter – like a window had been opened. Harry sat and nursed his cup of tea, nudging Draco’s feet with his own. He received a smirk and raised eyebrow whenever he did it and he grinned innocently at Draco. That always made him look away, his face twitching.

Sirius wanted to know everything that had happened at Hogwarts. He was more interested in the little things that were happening – what Peeves was up to, what their lessons were like, if Hogwarts had gone back to normal after the horror that was Umbridge. They managed to distract him by talking about Slughorn and the Slug Club – it made both Sirius and Lupin roll their eyes.

“Still going on about that,” Lupin muttered.

“You’re just bitter that you were never invited,” Sirius smirked, taking a sip of his tea.

“I recall you showing up to two of his dinners and then calling him a pompous old toad.”

“Well, that was true.”

“You were part of the Slug Club?” Harry asked.

“Mmm,” Sirius swirled his tea around in his mug, making the limescale separate and swirl. “I’m a Black. He seemed to know everything about my family – he knew more of my aunts than I did. Of course, he lost interest when I left home.”

“That’s not why you stopped going.”

“No,” Sirius said. He placed a hand over Lupin’s. “It was mainly because he couldn’t remember moony’s name.

“Says the man who only ever calls me moony.”

“That’s different,” Sirius smiled at Lupin and Harry smiled too. He was looking so much less like a skeleton now – he had so much more life in him. He had tied his hair back and his eyes glittered. It made him look ten years younger.

He leant towards Lupin, but Lupin turned his head away. Harry saw his face growing red. He remembered seeing Draco at the party and doing the same.

“Your mother went often though,” Lupin said. He smiled at Harry. “Slughorn did love Lily.”

“That’s because Lily was the best at potions,” Sirius said.

Something clicked in Harry’s mind at that. His mother had been good at potions – good enough to be perfect in Slughorn’s eyes.

And now Harry was. Because he’d found a book with handwriting in.

He’d never seen his mother’s handwriting.

“-James to Slughorn’s party!” Sirius was still talking and Harry brought his mind back around to the conversation. Draco was watching him and Harry flashed him a smile, finding his hand under the table.

“You know, I think that may have been their first date,” Lupin mused.

“Maybe I should have stayed in the Slug Club after all,” Sirius was still smiling and Lupin was still avoiding his eye. “Hey, you still go to his little meetings, don’t you, Harry? Did you bring Draco?”

“Yes,” Harry said, and he caught Draco’s eye. He smiled and felt his hand being squeezed. “Yeah, I took Draco.”

And that should have been that. But then Sirius had to continue. Then Sirius had to ask – “and everything’s been okay? With the two of you?”

“No trouble in paradise,” it was Draco’s turn to flash that smile at Harry. He couldn’t help it – he laughed and leant against him.

It was good to be back. He hadn’t realised how much Grimmauld Place felt like home and just how much he’d missed it.

Sirius had put up a Christmas tree. It was drooping already and most of the needles were on the floor. But it was a Christmas tree and he got so excited about decorating it. It was like he was a child again and Harry found that his excitement was infectious.

But then, he had never helped to decorate a Christmas Tree before. Dudley had made sure of that.

And it was fun, mainly because Draco was rolling his eyes at him and Lupin was watching from over a cup of coffee on the sofa.

“I suppose the house elves always decorated _your_ tree?” Harry asked. He had tinsel around his neck and a Santa hat skewed on his head. He draped an extra piece of tinsel around Draco as he spoke.

Draco snatched it off, rolling his eyes.

“Maybe. But I’ll have you now that I _always_ put the star on top.”

“Oh really?” Harry couldn’t help but smile. He imagined a tiny Draco being lifted up to place the star at the top of the tree. Whether his father was a Death Eater or not, it was an adorable image. Harry wondered what it would be like if he had.

“Really,” Draco looped the tinsel over Harry’s head, pulling him closer. He couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t felt self-conscious about kissing Draco. It was a wonderful feeling. He never wanted to pull away.

“Moony!” Sirius was saying, “You haven’t helped yet.”

“I’ve been supervising,” Lupin said. “There’s nothing left for me to do.”

“The star,” Sirius was smirking, his hands wrapping around Lupin’s mug. Lupin held on to it and he was pulled up by Sirius. He rolled his eyes. “C’mon, Moony!”

“You’re ridiculous,” Lupin said, but he picked the star up out of the box, anyway.

Harry leant into Draco, wrapping his arms around him. The tree looked nice – in a very Grimmauld Place way. It may have been half dead and had mismatching ornaments, but it was still charming.

Maybe Harry just didn’t have a lot of experience with Christmas trees.

Lupin gave out a yell when Sirius suddenly picked him up, so quickly that he almost hit his head on the ceiling.

“I can reach!” Lupin protested, his hands on Sirius’ shoulders.

But Sirius just laughed.

And for the first time, Harry was glad that he wasn’t spending Christmas at Hogwarts.

*

The days went by too quickly for Harry’s liking. All of a sudden it was Christmas Eve.

It was Christmas Eve and he had received a letter every day from Ron asking when he was planning to come to the Burrow. He finally sent one back saying that he wanted to spend Christmas with Sirius. His first Christmas with Sirius, he stressed. His first Christmas with his own family. Not someone else’s.

And he had to be there for Draco. He hadn’t wrote that, but he had thought it.

He had caught Draco staring at the Christmas tree with a vacant expression. Harry knew he was thinking of home – that he was missing home. It must have been painful – just as painful as two dead parents – to have one in prison and one missing.

Narcissa hadn’t even sent a card.

They headed upstairs early on Christmas Eve. Sirius and Lupin had drunk too much wine with dinner and almost looked asleep in front of the fire.

“Are you okay?” Harry whispered, walking up the stairs backwards so that he could keep hold of Draco’s hand.

“I’m trying not to think about it.” Draco replied.

They had to pad across the hallway to involved evoking (!!)’s wrath about what a blight homosexuals were on the world. It had been a strange Christmas – to be so merry and yet have her screaming all kinds of obscenities upstairs.

“I’m fine,” Draco caught Harry’s belt loops, pulling him back into him. “I’m fine as long as I have you.”

He was attacking Harry’s neck with kisses as they stumbled through the door of his bedroom. Harry gave a breathless laugh, kicking the door closed behind them. He turned, linking his arms around Draco’s neck and kissing him. He had to – there was mistletoe over every door. Sirius had put it up one night and Harry knew it was just an excuse to plant a kiss on Lupin whenever he walked in the room. He wasn’t complaining.

“So, this is Christmas,” Draco murmured. “Have you ever done anything like this at Christmas?”

“Making gingerbread houses and roasting marshmallows?” Harry asked. “No.”

Draco chuckled, kissing Harry’s neck again and tracing his way down to Harry’s shoulder. They were messy kisses and Harry shivered as he felt Draco’s teeth against his skin.

“What sad children we are,” Draco said against him. “Never had a proper Christmas between the two of us.”

“We have now,” Harry said.

“We have now.”

Draco’s hands traced underneath Harry’s shirt, his fingertips so light that they made Harry shiver. There was that cunning smile on Draco’s face. He was planning something.

“Speaking of now,” Draco said. “I want to cash in a certain favour.”

“I don’t owe you a favour,” Harry said, fiddling with Draco’s collar.

“A believe you owe me a slow dance.”

“I told you-“

“That was half of one. I want the other half.”

“You’re an arse.”

“You love my arse.” Draco’s hands want around Harry’s back, cupping his rear.

“You wish.”

“Stop stalling and dance with me.”

“There’s not even any music.”

Draco rolled his eyes, taking Harry’s hand and waist. “Like that’s going to stop me.”

He followed Draco’s lead. It felt like their footsteps were too loud – like everyone would be able to hear. The curtains were open – they’d probably all peer in. Well, they would if Grimmauld Place hadn’t been hidden.

Draco moved with more precision this time. He was keeping a rhythm in his head and Harry couldn’t keep up. He couldn’t even figure it out. He stumbled, pushed and pulled around by Draco until he was tripping over his own feet – he tripped over Draco’s as well.

And Draco was chuckling under his breath.

“I knew you couldn’t dance,” he said.

Harry stuck his tongue out at him, purposefully stepping on Draco that time. That only made him laugh harder.

“It’s not hard-“

“Says you.”

“All you have to do is follow my lead,” Draco said. He leant forward, his eyes catching the moonlight. “Do you trust me, Potter?”

Harry looked at him. The silver light was making him look like a veela again – it was making him breathless, but he didn’t even hesitate.

“I trust you with my life.”

Draco didn’t smile straight away. For a moment, he looked completely winded, as though Harry had punched him in the stomach.

Then the slow smile appeared.

“Well, even you must now that you dance in beats of four – one, two, three, four-“ Draco demonstrated, all but dragging Harry around the room. He might as well have been dancing with a mannequin. “-It’s a box. Simple as that.”

“It is not a box – you keep turning, and-“ Harry stumbled again.

Draco caught his chin in his hand, his smile soft instead of teasing. He kissed him, then pulled Harry closer.

“Just move with me, alright, trouble?”

Harry tried, stepping awkwardly alongside Draco. When was the half of the slow dance going to be over? Surely they couldn’t have missed that much of the song at Slughorn’s party.

He kept stumbling, feeling clumsy and awkward, but managing not to step on Draco. After a few minutes of shuffling suffering, Draco began to hum. Harry had hoped that music would make it easier to count the beats – the oh-so obvious beats that Draco kept pointing out. Then he realised he had no idea how to count the beats of music, especially not when it was Draco humming in the back of his throat. It was a distracting sound, like hearing him purring.

Draco leant forward, so that his mouth was over Harry’s ear, and stopped humming. He sung instead, under his breath so that Harry could barely make out the words. He didn’t care for a moment, because now that he was starting to get the hang of Draco’s movements – now that Draco had given up on moving so much and simply turning him instead – this was nice. It was more than nice, it was making his heart beat out of his chest and his breath feel like fire going down his throat. Draco had hold of him and he had hold of Draco and they were moving together to some invisible rhythm. They had joined themselves.

It took him a while to realise that Draco was singing in French. He wondered what the words were – but a part of him understood. Somehow, he knew that it was a song about love and the wonder of it.

Harry closed his eyes, leaning his head against Draco’s and letting the words wash over him. He stopped counting down the seconds before he could stop dancing. He stopped thinking full stop. In this moment, Draco Malfoy was his whole world.

And what a rose-coloured world it was.

It could have been a whole year when Draco slowed down, bringing their steps down to a halt. He stood there for a moment, Harry leaning on him more than he was supporting his own weight.

Then Draco seemed to breathe out, kissing Harry’s cheek and whispering “ _joyeux Noël, mon ange_.”

Harry’s heart fluttered in his mouth. It felt like a butterfly trying to fly away.

"Merry Christmas, darlin’,” he said it without thinking. It had just activated a memory that he hadn’t thought about in years.

"Darling? I have a pet name now?" Draco was leaning against the post of the bed, his body flush against Harry’s. He kissed Harry lazily, as though they had all the time in the world.

"Hm?” he couldn’t think probably when Draco’s mouth was on his. “Oh, it was just a line from a Muggle song. It used to come on the radio a lot. I liked it."

"What was it called?"

He hated that Draco kept talking to him. If he was talking to him, he wasn’t kissing him.

"Lonely This Christmas.” He followed Draco’s mouth as he pulled away, and opened his eyes to see Draco looking at him tenderly.

"Oh, honey."

Harry laughed. It came out as a quiet chuckle – like they were back at Hogwarts and still had to be silent.

“It's fine,” he said. ”It would - it made me think of my parents. And they would have been gone, even if I lived with Sirius.”

“That doesn’t make it any less…” Draco trailed off.

Harry took the opportunity to keep kissing Draco – to pepper his jaw with kisses.

Draco sat down, pulling Harry with him so that he was sat in his lap. He fumbled with his collar, taking Harry’s head and guiding it down to the side of his neck.

Harry hesitated, wetting his lips. Draco’s fingers tightened in his hair and he made his decision, biting down on Draco’s pale skin.

It made Draco’s fingers unclench. He sighed – and it was the most beautiful sound Harry had ever heard.

“I love you,” Draco whispered.

“I love you too,” Harry kissed the bite. “ _So_ much.”

Draco made a small sound in the back of his throat. His hand was still guiding Harry’s head.

“What was the song?” Harry murmured, smiling when he felt Draco shiver. “That you were singing?”

“Something my mother used to sing. A lullaby,” Draco replied.

“I miss her.”

“Me too,” Draco said. “Let’s not talk about it. Let’s not – talk, okay?”

He kissed Harry’s cheekbone, undoing another button of his shirt. His grip tightened on Harry’s hair again and he moved automatically, his mouth working out of instinct.

Draco had Harry’s shirt off in no time, throwing it into the darkness of the room. When had it got so dark? Harry wasn’t sure. He was sure that Draco was there, and holding him, running his fingertips up Harry’s back so that he shivered.

He shifted, trying to stay on Draco’s lap and not just flop onto the bed. He felt like that – like he was entirely spent of power to control his own body.

But Draco had hold of him, holding his rear firmly so that he stayed in place. He was back to attacking Harry’s neck – back to showing everyone what a little shit Harry was, in his words.

It made it hard to keep kissing Draco when he kept gasping. He should be used to it by now. Surely.

He didn’t think he’d ever be used to this, he thought, as he rested his forehead on Draco’s shoulder. He felt like a sweaty mess – Grimmauld Place was never usually this warm. It was an effort to breathe.

Draco’s shirt had fallen down over one shoulder, revealing skin that looked pure white in the darkness. He was almost _glowing_. Harry had to see more of that glowing skin.

His fingers fumbled with the buttons of Draco’s shirt, and for a moment he believed that Draco was going to stop him. To tell him no – but it didn’t happen. He even managed to slip the sleeves down. He couldn’t tell where it went next.

Draco lay back instead, his hands still on Harry’s waist so that he was still straddling him on the bed. His eyes were closed, his stomach bare. He looked like a statue.

A statue who’s hands appeared on Harry’s neck again, guiding his mouth onto his chest.

“I don’t know where I’d be without you,” Draco whispered. He still had his eyes closed, his eyelashes flickering and creating shadows on his face in the darkness. “I love you, Potter.”

That seemed to be all they could say to each other between breathless kisses. But that was fine. This was better than making gingerbread or decorating the tree.

This was making Harry’s Christmas a very merry one indeed.

*

It didn’t occur to him until he had already opened his eyes on Christmas morning that Sirius might wake him up with a stocking.

Thankfully, that didn’t happen. Both he and Draco had fallen asleep on top of the duvet, still in jeans.

Instead of a beaming Sirius, he opened his eyes to find Draco’s white arms around him.

Draco’s bare white arms.

And before Harry could realise it, he was staring at the scar. The bite.

It looked like two crescent moons, Harry thought. Two crescent moons of raised skin. It had gone even paler than Draco’s skin, looking almost transparent in the morning light.

Then Harry realised that he shouldn’t be looking at it. He shouldn’t even have seen it, lying on the pillow in front of him.

Shit.

Draco made a small groan, wrapping his arms more tightly around Harry from behind and burying his face into the side of Harry’s neck.

“Draco,” he murmured, a hand going to Draco’s head. He stroked his hair like he was trying to wake a dog up.

“Hmm? Oh, Merry Christmas, Potter. Ten more minutes, yeah?”

“Draco.” He said again, more urgently this time.

“What?” Draco shifted, like he was going to get up then had thought better of it. He had probably opened his eyes and saw there was no immediate danger in the room. “What’s wrong?”

“I-“ Now that he had gotten his attention, Harry wasn’t sure how to say it. “You’re topless.”

“So are you,” Draco gave Harry’s shoulder an affection nip that made him curl up.

“I mean,” Harry said. “I can see – I saw…”

Draco paused then. He seemed to spot it too. His arm lying on the pillows.

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry said. His heart was racing again.

“I didn’t think your eyesight was that good without your glasses.”

“It was two inches in front of my face.”

“So you can’t see it now?”

“You’re being awfully calm about this.”

“You’ve seen it now, haven’t you?” Draco yawned, his mouth at the edge of Harry’s shoulder. He trailed a finger down Harry’s arm. “I can’t do anything about that.”

Harry knew he shouldn’t – every part of him was telling him not to look back at it. But he did, he let his gaze drop back to the scar. He still had one hand in Draco’s hair, and he knew it had frozen there.

“You can touch it if you want,” Draco’s voice was scarcely more than a breath against his neck.

He shouldn’t. Not after Draco had hidden it for so long.

But Draco took his wrist, guiding him down to the scar. He let his finger run over the raised skin, feeling entranced by it. It wasn’t as large as he thought it would be – he didn’t know how large he had thought it would be. Not such a small thing.

His own scars glinted in the sun on the back of his hand. His skin was so dark against Draco’s.

He didn’t seem to be moving of his own accord. He took Draco’s forearm, bending it upwards so that he could kiss the mark.

Draco sighed against his neck, pulling him closer.

“I wasn’t scared of you seeing it,” Draco whispered. “I wasn’t even scared about what you’d do. I just – wasn’t ready for you to see it.”

“Ready or not, here I come,” Harry murmured, tucking Draco’s arm around him. “Does it really bother you that I’ve seen it?”

Draco shrugged and sighed again. He was hard to read – harder to read than Harry – but Harry suspected that he was scared. That he had been scared of Harry seeing it, for whatever reason. Draco Malfoy had kept it a secret from him for so long.

This probably wasn’t how he wanted to show Harry – if he had ever planned to.

So Harry wasn’t going to make a big deal out of it.

“Ten more minutes, then,” he whispered, closing his eyes again.

*

Of course there had to be a full moon over New Years, Harry thought. Of course there would be – because along with everything else, the _moon_ seemed to want to be his enemy.

Which meant that he was going to the Burrow for New Years alone. Draco was staying behind with Sirius and Lupin. He wasn’t sure why that made him cringe so much – it wasn’t like Sirius had any embarrassing stories about him.

That didn’t mean he trusted Sirius not to be embarrassing.

But he did miss Ron – this had been the first Christmas that they hadn’t been together since they met. And he knew that Ron needed him. He couldn’t imagine the first Christmas at the Burrow without Mr Weasley. That was why he had to go.

And Ginny as well. After all of her support for the last year, he owed it to her to be there for her now.

“Hey,” Draco caught his little finger as he headed out the door, ladenned with a huge backpack. His face and tone didn’t match his words. “Be careful, okay?”

“You too,” Harry kissed him goodbye, then swung onto Sirius’ motorbike. They had deemed it safe for Sirius to drive him to the Burrow, as long as he kept his helmet on. And followed the traffic safety laws.

Harry was sure they’d be breaking that agreement.

The first ten minutes they drove in silence and Harry shifted uncomfortably in the side car.

“It’s only for a few days,” Harry said. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Hm? What, no, I’m not-“ the bike lurched and Sirius righted them quickly. He glanced at Harry. “You have to see your friends, Harry. You’re basically an adult now. I just – I can’t talk and drive, okay? I’m rusty at this.”

They almost swerved into the back of a van and Harry shut his mouth before he could distract Sirius anymore. He really was rusty at driving – he couldn’t seem to keep the bike straight on the road. It was good – it distracted Harry from the fact that he was leaving. All he had to focus on was staying alive.

That would be ironic – with the whole prophecy thing – Harry dying in a car crash.

That was just how the Dursley’s said his parents died.

Even more ironic, he supposed.

Eventually, Sirius tutted and pulled straight off of the side of the road, seeming to rove over the fields without any problem. It was still a bumpy ride, but they didn’t screech to a stop like they should have. It must have been enchanted.

“That’s better,” Sirius grinned, flashing a smile at Harry. “Now I can talk.”

“Are you sure you know the way like this?”

“Sure I do.”

Harry wasn’t convinced. He was starting to cramp up in the sidecar, his hair sweaty from the drive.

“Draco will be fine,” Sirius continued. “I promise – we’ll take care of him. Lupin – he’s very fond of Draco.”

“Really?” Harry held onto his helmet to stop it from flying off of his head. The countryside was passing them at an alarming rate.

“Why’s that such a surprise?”

“Because – well, Draco hated Lupin when he was a teacher.”

“Yeah – I think they’ve figured things out. I’m sure Lupin whacked him a little harder than necessary that first full moon.” Sirius gave a booming laugh at the look on Harry’s face. “Calm down – werewolves have thicker skin than us. Draco gave his fair share back, I assure you.”

He hated the way Sirius’ jaw tightened when he said that.

“Really?” That seemed to be the only thing that Harry could say.

“Mmm…” Sirius grimaced. “I said I wouldn’t say.”

“No – you should. Tell me about it.”

“Ah – I can’t.”

“Sirius. Let’s remember who your Godson is.”

Sirius laughed again and didn’t say anything more.

Harry pouted, turning his gaze to the countryside instead. That made it worse – knowing just a little about it but nothing else. Just knowing that Draco was getting hurt. That Lupin was getting hurt. That the people he loved dearly were hurting each other.

They seemed to pull up at the Burrow way too quickly. Sirius was hugging him goodbye and ruffling his sweaty hair way too soon for Harry’s liking. He suddenly felt like a child being left at school for the first time. He didn’t want Sirius to go.

Especially because Mrs Weasley was hugging him and telling him how much she had missed him. She was telling him how good it was that he was finally here for the holidays. He couldn’t leave now,  not when she was smiling at him like that.

So he smiled and said goodbye.

It wasn’t awful, he supposed. He had missed Ron and Fred and George and Ginny.

“Percy came round,” Ron murmured to Harry when they were sat in the living room. It was freezing and they were buried under mountains of blankets. Mrs Weasley had loaded them both up with huge mugs of hot chocolate – kissing both of their heads before she started on a huge New Years Eve dinner. “Christmas day.”

“Oh.” Harry curled his toes under the blankets. “How’d that go?”

“It was – tense,” Ron said. “But, you know, he offered to give mum some money, to help out, you know.”

“Oh, that’s good.”

“She said no,” Ron’s eyes glanced over to Mrs Weasley. “Said that she would rather he move in than bought her off with money.”

“Oh.”

“She’s accepting it from Fred and George, even though they’re living in town, but…” Ron scratched his ear. “It’s not really enough, you know.”

“Yeah.” God, he had no idea what to say.

He thought he was saved by Ginny’s arrival. She barrelled down the stairs, though she always seemed to be barrelling down the stairs.

But then of course, Ron was clapping him on the shoulder and giving him a meaningful look.

“I’m going to help mum peel the sprouts,” he said, almost knocking Ginny over as he barrelled past her.

“You never want to help your mum with the sprouts,” Harry said.

“Yeah, well, you know,” Ron gestured to Ginny behind her back and Harry gave a tentative nod.

Ginny glanced at Harry, then tucked herself onto the other end of the sofa. She hadn’t said a word and she looked pale. So far, she hadn’t even looked at Ron.

Harry really didn’t know what he was meant to do. He wasn’t good with people – he especially wasn’t good at talking to girls.

“Um – blanket?” Harry said, holding a bundle of the fabric out to her.

Ginny glanced at him and shrugged. He placed it over her anyway. He shuffled uncomfortably.

“So, how’s Draco?” Ginny whispered. She had a hand on her chin, facing away from him.

“He’s, fine, yeah. It’s the full moon – that’s why – that’s why it’s just me.”

“Right, ‘course.”

“Are you okay?” Harry asked.

Ginny glanced at him. She sighed. “It probably sounds stupid – considering all the drama you and Draco have had and all the – but, Collin started talking and…it was at Slughorn’s party,” Ginny pulled her knees to her chest. “They called me a dyke.”

“I’m so sorry, Ginny.” Harry wished he could put his arms around her. Why didn’t he put his arms around her? He was such an awkward big brother.

“It wasn’t even  - I don’t care about that. So I’m a dyke, but at least I’m not a dick, you know? It was more – I couldn’t understand why everyone was suddenly making a thing about it now. McLaggen asked if he could join in.”

“Well, McLaggen’s a dickhead.”

“I used the head-shrinking curse on him. I’m telling you that’s not what bothered me-“ Ginny flopped onto Harry, fiddling with the ends of her hair. Harry froze. “It’s that it’s suddenly a problem – since I said it in front of Collin. I think – I think Luna might have been casting a few spells of his own.”

“I mean,” Harry bit his lip. “If she was – I’m sure she was just doing it to protect you.”

“Did you know?” He’d never heard Ginny sound so depressed.

Harry took a breath. He couldn’t lie to Ginny. Not to her. “She might have mentioned it.”

He waited for the storm – for the ‘so you knew too and didn’t tell me?’ It didn’t come. The flames of Ginny’s anger were smothered.

“She wanted to keep you safe.”

“I know,” Ginny said. Her voice was even smaller now. “But that’s not what you want. You and Draco want to show them all it doesn’t matter. You want to fight. I want to too.”

Harry finally managed to get the courage to put his arm around her. It was mainly around the blankets, but that didn’t matter. He had managed it.

“I don’t have any advice for you, Ginny,” he said. He rested his head on her, still feeling very self-conscious and awkward. This was ridiculous – he loved Ginny. He wanted the best for her. “You two need to decide what to do – together.”

Ginny sighed again.

“I just wish that it didn’t matter.”

“I know. Me too.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N): I'm kind of hoping that this is a halfway mark? It scares me how huge this fic is - I keep every chapter as a separate doc because I'm scared to see the total word count. Imagine if I'd been working on my novel instead! (But I guess that's what dissertations and professional portfolios are for..)
> 
> But yeah, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I really liked writing it - apart from the last scene. I know this is a Drarry fic but I feel obligated to continue the Hinny storyline...but it's not really a Hinny story either?? I guess it's just a self-indulgent thing - but please let me know if it feels too crammed in because - yeah, that's not what you're here for.
> 
> Oh! And before I forget - the song that Draco hums/sings is 'La Vie En Rose' - it was brought to my attention by thatrulernamedlogan on quotev a while ago! I didn't forget about it - I was just storing it away for the perfect moment and - well, I thought this was it! 
> 
> Thank you so so much for all of the wonderful comments and for being there every step of the way of this journey.
> 
> Here's to a great second half of this fic. xx
> 
> P.S SORRY FOR NOT REPLYING TO COMMENTS - I DO READ AND CHERISH THEM SO MUCH, YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND - I JUST FORGET TO REPLY AND THEN HAVE NO IDEA WHAT TO SAY BECAUSE I FEEL LIKE I'M REPEATING MYSELF - BUT THANK YOU SO SO MUCH!!!


	13. 13

13

It was just like it had been during the Summer. Harry was filled with a horrible sense of dread as the start of the new term approached. He missed his friends – he missed Hogwarts and he even missed some of his lessons.

But he didn’t want to _leave_. He didn’t want to have to say goodbye to Sirius and Lupin. He didn’t want to leave his home.

Home – that was a strange thought. A strange thought and a strange feeling – to be so content somewhere other than Hogwarts. He didn’t think he’d ever have that.

There was also the mess that happened at Slughorn’s party. He didn’t want to have to deal with the repercussions of that. Of Draco – or of Luna’s actions.

They were going back the next day and Harry felt as though they should be doing something special. But they weren’t – they were just sat in front of the fire cradling cups of tea. He was almost falling asleep on Draco’s shoulder, his eyes on the clock. They had such little time left to themselves.

“I needed you, at the Burrow,” Harry murmured.

“You wouldn’t need me.”

Harry fiddled with a loose thread on his sleeve. He should have said something as soon as he had come back. He hadn’t really known how to and now he felt awkward admitting it.

“The minister paid me a visit.” His try at a casual tone was ruined by the way his voice cracked.

Draco’s feet flew from the coffee table and Harry was pitched into the sofa as he turned. He looked up into wide, grey eyes and tried not to look too guilty.

“The _minister_?”

“The minister,” Harry shrugged and tried for a small smile. “I needed you to tell me what to say.”

Draco rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “When did you start getting so reliant on me, Potter?”

It had been more of a tease than a question. A little joke just to get under Harry’s skin, but it made him pause. Just when had that happened? When had all of this happened? Didn’t they used to hate each other?

”I don’t know,” Harry murmured.

There was another pause, then Draco pulled Harry back towards him, tucking his legs onto the sofa.

“What did the minister want?” Draco’s voice hummed against Harry’s hair.

He shrugged again, taking Draco’s hand and entwining their fingers. He pressed his knuckles to his mouth.

“For me to be the ministry’s mascot. To show that they’re doing something about the whole Voldemort thing.”

“What did you say?”

“I basically told him to shove off.”

Draco chuckled.

“He said I was Dumbledore’s man – through and through. I didn’t know that I could laugh like that,” Harry said. “I told him Dumbledore wasn’t in my good books either, at the moment.”

Draco laughed again, pulling Harry even closer so that he was a jumble of limbs in his lap. He opened his mouth to keep talking – then paused. Draco blinked at him. There was a strand of platinum blonde falling over his forehead, cutting in front of his eye. It looked almost white in the wintry sunlight.

Harry reached up, his fingers looking too clumsy for the job, and took the strand. It was like a strand of a spiderweb – silky and barely there. He tucked it back along with the rest of Draco’s hair, aware that he was being watched in some mix of amusement and confusion.

Draco’s mouth twitched upwards and his gaze softened, as though Harry had melted it. Pale fingers pushed his fringe away from his face and Harry felt his breath hitch at the feathery touch. He stopped breathing completely when Draco ran the very tip of his finger against the lightning bolt scar. He didn’t know what he had been expecting. Part of him was terrified that he would be doubled up in paint the next moment. But it just tingled – the same way it did when Draco sent his fingers down Harry’s spine, or up his stomach. A good kind of tingle. Another part of him was terrified about Draco’s reaction – if his lip would curl or if he would wince. If he would shudder and turn away, pushing Harry’s fringe back into place.

But he didn’t. He still had that same warm expression on his face. Like Harry was something incredibly special. Incredibly special and incredibly fragile.

Maybe he should have felt angry at that, but he felt fragile. This last year, he had felt extremely fragile.

“You always cover it up,” Draco said. It sounded more like he was talking to himself rather than to Harry.

“Yeah, well,” Harry shrugged. “I don’t like it that much.”

“It’s not as awful as you think, you know,” Draco ran the pad of his thumb over the scar.

“Oh – it’s not how it looks,” Harry brushed Draco’s hand away, pressing it into his hair instead. “It’s more  - that – it’s all I have – it was the mark left by my mum, really. It’s because of her that I have it. So I – I don’t like seeing it all that much.”

“You have a piece of her that’s always with you.” Draco’s gaze grew distant. He didn’t have to say the rest of it – that he wished he had something to remember his mother by. At least she was alive – Harry wanted to say – but then, she was hiding. She was hiding and they hadn’t heard from her in months.

“I think-“ the words just came from Harry’s mouth in a tired tone. He didn’t really want to say them, but the thought hadn’t even occurred to him until just then. “I think I would have preferred it if she hadn’t – if we all just – at least we’d be together.” Draco’s eyebrows drew together. Harry knew he should stop speaking, but he couldn’t. “I know that then Voldemort would never have been stopped. But I also wouldn’t be the Chosen One. No one would expect anything from me.”

“No.” Draco pressed his hand against Harry’s mouth, frowning down at him. “No, don’t talk like that. Never talk like that.”

Harry’s heart beat against his ribcage. He felt tired suddenly – bone tired. His eyes were half closed as he lay there, looking up at Draco. He didn’t have to say anything.

“Do you really wish that?” Draco sounded almost horrified and something squirmed in Harry’s gut. Not remorse. Just a little bit of guilt.

He didn’t say anything. He just laid a hand over Draco’s, pressing it against his face.

“Your mother sacrificed everything for you – don’t – don’t-“

“I know – I know she did,” Harry could barely understand the words coming from his own mouth. He moved Draco’s hand away and closed his eyes. “But she left me on my own. And now everyone thinks I can make it all better and I can’t because I don’t know how – I don’t want to – I don’t want to kill Voldemort just because my mum loved me. Just because mum – everyone’s mum loves them. I’m sure any decent mum would do exactly what she did but because I was born on that stupid day and because there was a stupid prophecy I – I don’t want to kill a man. I don’t – it’s not fair. None of its fair and I wish – just sometimes, I wish that she hadn’t protected me.”

He was aware of Draco’s hand stroking his hair – calming him - begging him to stop because he could hardly get the words out now. There was a horrible crack in his voice because he was trying to talk around a huge stone that had lodged itself in his throat. Draco wiped away the tears that had been pooling in the corner of his eyes.

“I don’t think she did it because of any stupid prophecy, _mon ange_. I think she acted on an impulse because she wanted to see you safe. She wanted to see you grow up happy and knowing that she loved you more than anything. She wouldn’t want you to feel like this.”

“I know.” He couldn’t tell if he had actually said it or not.

“So, don’t think that way, okay? Don’t think that way because she wouldn’t want you to.” Draco smiled then. “And I don’t want you to. If you died, Potter, I’d drag you straight back here and I wouldn’t forgive you.”

It made Harry laugh. He meant to laugh, at least, but it came out as more of a hiccup.

“Okay,” he whispered.

Draco pulled his legs up, so that he was holding Harry against his chest. He lay there, still wiping tears from his face with the heel of his hand.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you too.”

“But I really love you.”

“I really love you too.”

“No – I really, really-“

“I know.” Draco said. He gave Harry’s shoulder a squeeze. “I know, Harry.”

And that seemed incredible.

*

Hogwarts was still uncomfortable. Hermione seemed to be trying to set a record on how long she could go without acknowledging someone’s presence. She had taken Ginny under her wing, knocking house points from anyone who made so much as half a comment about her and Luna.

Ron hadn’t said anything. He seemed to be trying his hardest to completely ignore the whole situation.

“I told her,” was all he said to Harry. “She didn’t listen to me. What’s the point in me talking to her now? She’s just not going to listen again.”

But Harry had seen him with his wand at Colin Creevey’s throat in one of the secret passageways. For a moment, he hadn’t looked anything like Ron – he hadn’t sounded like Ron either, with the way he was snarling at the younger boy.

In a horrible way, Harry was relieved. It was keeping some of the heat off of him and Draco. He had really assumed they would be old news by now – that everyone would  be used to it by now.

But there were still glares and murmurs when they walked next to each other. Harry was sure it because Draco had taken to putting a hand on his waist whenever they were together. But the Slytherins were giving them a wide berth, even though Blaise’s sting had gone done completely.

It was fine, though. Because Harry didn’t care and whenever Draco looked nervous, he would find his hand and squeeze it and grin. They were together. And that was all that mattered.

Harry had heard the teachers talking about them. He hadn’t meant to – he had been heading to Dumbledore’s office and they had just been talking in one of the empty classrooms. Harry had heard ‘Malfoy’ and had paused. He wrapped his invisibility cloak around him and had pressed himself against the wall, straining his ears to hear.

“It is a political statement, I believe.”

That was McGonagall. Harry frowned.

“Do you _really_ believe that? They’re two smitten teenagers.”

“The castle is full of smitten teenagers. I’m afraid I simply don’t see the problem.”

And with that, the classroom door swung open. Harry jumped, then immediately crossed his fingers in the hope that McGonagall didn’t see his feet when he did.

She didn’t even glance at him, sweeping down the corridor with two red spots on her cheeks.

Snape appeared moments later, his face still frozen as a sneer.

Harry tiptoed around him, holding his breath. He was going to be late.

He really wasn’t sure what to make of that. It was a political statement, in a way, he supposed. It was more like a huge middle finger to everyone around them. But if that meant that McGonagall was on their side and sticking her middle finger up to Snape because of it – then that was fine. Harry could live with that. In fact, he quite liked it. Anything to annoy Snape.

As long as it was going to annoy Snape, he’d keep doing it, he thought as he carried on his way to Dumbledore’s office. It was only when he was standing on the staircase that he realised he was still wearing his invisibility cloak.

And he was still shoving it back into his bag when he was shouldering the door open.

Dumbledore didn’t seem to notice that he was late. He was already sat there with the pensieve in front of him. He asked how Harry’s Christmas break was with all of the air of someone who didn’t really care.

Harry told the truth. He said that the ministry had wanted to recruit him for propaganda and Dumbledore smiled when he said that he had declined. It didn’t send the thrill of pride through him that it usually did when Dumbledore was happy with him. He bit his lip to stop himself from snapping ‘it wasn’t for you. It wasn’t because of you. If was for me.’

But he didn’t. Because he didn’t want to get into any of that right now.

There was something else that he was thinking about. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to bring it up. Right up until Dumbledore was already pouring a memory vial into the penseive.

“You knew Grindlewald, right?”

That wasn’t the way that he wanted to start the conversation. It was incredibly awkward and he wished he hadn’t even opened his mouth when Dumbledore’s blue eyes pierced right through him.

“Of course, I knew him, Harry, I helped to defeat him.”

“Right, yeah, okay,” Harry said. “I meant – you knew each other – before – before that.”

Dumbledore gave him a long, silent look and Harry shifted on the spindly chair.

“We were at Hogwarts together, yes.”

“And – um…” Harry swallowed. “What was that like?”

“Harry,” Dumbledore said. “I have a lot to show you this evening and I believe it is time to get going.”

So, Harry bit his tongue for the second time that evening. He wanted to say that he didn’t care about all of this – not anymore. This wasn’t his problem. It wasn’t his war. He was tired of being dragged into it. No one else was – everyone else was safe at Hogwarts and didn’t need to think about the wizarding war.

But he had never been very good at standing up to Dumbledore. And this was his fight now, as unfair as it was.

 He went to bed that night with his head full of horcruxes and young Tom Riddle’s face.

Tom Riddle – who once looked like a normal man. A normal _boy_. A boy only a couple of years older than Harry.

A boy who had Draco’s same arrogance about him.

There wasn’t a resemblance, not really, but the whiff of one made Harry toss and turn.

He ended up slipping out of the common room and heading down the corridors. He hadn’t even paid attention to where he was going before he was standing in front of the Room of Requirement.

Draco was in there.

And Nott.

They had agreed not to spend so much time together – they could so easily get in trouble for it. Mainly, though, because they didn’t get a lot of sleep when they shared a bed anymore. They’d get caught up in stupid conversations and then Draco would start kissing him and he would start kissing Draco.

At Hogwarts, they had to get their sleep. Classes were becoming harder and harder and they were starting to learn to apparate. Half the year had woken up with nightmares about doing it wrong and losing limbs.

Harry sighed, pressed his forehead against the door-

At the very moment that it opened. He pitched forward, catching the frame just before he ended up smack on his face.

Draco was standing there, blinking at him. He had one hand outstretched to catch him and it hovered just over Harry’s chest.

The shock lasted a moment, before Draco was smirking. His hand rested on Harry’s chest, pushing him a step backwards as he pulled the door closed behind him.

“Hello, trouble. What brings a boy like you to a place like this?”

“I didn’t mean to.” The words came out in a jumble, because he had them prepared but Draco using that tone of voice made his heart stutter and break. “I just – I needed air and – I –“

“Well, look at that.” Draco’s voice dropped and so did his gaze. He smoothed out Harry’s t-shirt. “I needed air too.” He paused. “I missed you, tonight.”

“Me too. So much.”

“So, you needed ‘air’?” their hands were linked and Harry was numb to follow Draco down the hallway.

“No, I really did,” Harry said. “Not that you’re not – this is a bonus, seeing you – in a place like this.”

That made Draco chuckle under his breath. More of a whisper than a laugh.

“So what’s wrong?” he asked and slowed so that Harry was at his side.

“Dumbledore,” Harry said. He smiled. “Just – he just keeps showing me Voldemort’s past and I – I think that’s a bad idea.”

“Hm?”

“Because now he’s a person. He was a teenager once and he looked like a teenager – and, you know, he had his own problems. He went to Hogwarts and I’m sure he had friends and now he’s-“ Harry sighed. “Now he’s bloody frickin’ Voldemort.”

Draco was quiet. He glanced up at Harry after a moment, then gave him a small smile and squeezed his hand.

“I’m sorry – you needed air too, right? What’s going on?”

“I got – a letter,” Draco sat down on one of the stone benches that lined the corridor. “A letter from my father.”

Harry sat too, his mouth suddenly dry. “He can send letters from Azkaban?”

“I think the rules have lessened up quite a bit,” Draco said. He looked as though he had a sour taste in his mouth. “It was what I expected – that I need to be on the right side, that when he got out he would be finding my mother and one of us – both of us – would be paying for this humiliation. You know, standard father and son talk.”

“Ah, I escaped that talk.” Harry was trying to be funny, but the joke was dead on arrival. He leant against Draco instead.

“What worried me was that he said ‘when’ he gets out. Like it’ll be soon,” Draco said. “Like they’ve got a plan.”

“They probably do,” Harry said. “It’s been more than six months, now. There’s nothing we can do about it, darling. Not here.”

“If they’re planning something, we have to send word-“

“To who? The dementors aren’t obeying the ministry anymore.”

Draco sighed. “He kept talking about redemption – that there was still time to redeem myself in the eyes of the Dark Lord. That there was a job he wanted done and if I did it then maybe I could come back.”

“And that’s what Zabini is up to.”

“Most probably. He wouldn’t tell me what it was. I suppose that was smart of him.”

“Maybe,” Harry said. “Considering you’re fond of kissing the chosen one.”

“Oh no.” Draco put an arm around Harry, pulling him against him and pressing his mouth against the top of his head. “The chosen one is fond of kissing me.”

“He is.”

“I’m tempted to do it, you know,” Draco said and his hand tightened on Harry before he could turn around in shock. “Not because I care about it or anything – I just want to see the look on their faces when a werewolf shows them all up.”

Harry wanted to laugh at that – he knew it was a joke. But he put a hand over Draco’s hand, leaning into him.

“It doesn’t matter that much – at least, I don’t think it matters.”

“Of course, _you_ don’t.” Draco kissed the top of Harry’s head, then wrapped his other arm around him. “I’m worried that he’ll find her.”

“Narcissa?”

“Yes.” His voice dropped down to a whisper. “I don’t know where she is. I know that’s supposed to be good – that it’s supposed to protect her, but – I don’t know if she’s okay.”

“Your mum is an amazing woman,” Harry said. “She’ll be fine.”

Draco hummed against him and pulled him closer. Harry closed his eyes, feeling like he was floating. It felt like the whole world was spinning around them and that Draco was the only solid thing left. He could sleep here. He could fall asleep right here – on this stone bench.

“Mum,” Harry murmured. He didn’t know how long it had been – he seemed to have been floating in the darkness for a while. But he forced his eyes open. There it was. The same dark corridor that he had closed his eyes in. “My mum was good at potions…and the Prince was good at potions.”

“You think that’s your mother’s book?” Draco’s voice was less than a whisper. “Why would she call herself a Prince?”

“I don’t know,” Harry said. He sucked in a breath. “She wasn’t a half-blood, either – I just – I don’t know who else it could be. Slughorn only seems to go on about her being the best at potions. I like being the best at potions this year. It makes me feel like – like I’m living up to her.”

“I think she’d be very proud of you even if you couldn’t make a potion,” Draco said. “Just for being you.”

And he pretended not to notice Harry furiously swiping at his cheeks. He just sat there, in Draco’s arms, trying to ride out the feelings going through him. He couldn’t place them – he couldn’t describe them. He just needed to let them wash out of him. Because a large part of him couldn’t understand what was so special about him. But Draco obviously saw something in him. Something deeper than the scar.

When he felt like he could talk, he turned his head into Draco and said, “I think your mum would be proud of you too.”

“Well, of course.”

Harry laughed, then, and felt better for it. He shifted, so that he was facing Draco.

“Your father – would he – I mean,” he stumbled. “How are you feeling about that?”

“I’ve been trying not to think about it. The way he sneered at me – when Greyback was-“ Draco didn’t meet Harry’s eye. He took a moment, his fist clenching. “The way he looked at me afterwards. It was like he was staring at someone else. I knew then that I was never going to be his son again. The Dark Lord had killed his son.”

“But now – now he’s-“

“He wouldn’t be. Not if he knew that his son was a fag.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true.”

“That word.”

Draco rolled his eyes, but he kissed Harry. “It’s true,” he whispered. “Being a werewolf – that’s maneagable. Now. Just. If now one else knew and I redeemed myself. But being gay? That would be one step too far. There’s no cure for being gay.”

“There doesn’t need to be.”

“Well I know that and you know that,” Draco kissed him again. Soft and tenderly. “But he doesn’t know that.”

Harry kissed him again, because he didn’t know what else to do and because it made Draco’s mouth twitch upwards. Because it made his chest feel warm and he _loved_ Draco’s mouth. Draco’s mouth was an incredible thing.

“You don’t have to give me that look,” Draco said. He had one hand on Harry’s face, his fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck.

“I’m not giving you any look.”

“ _That_ look. Like you’re sorry for me.” There was a genuine smile on his face. “It’s okay. I don’t see him as my father anymore. I think that a father should offer to get bitten in the place of his son. That would never occur to him.”

His thumb rubbed against Harry’s cheekbone and he leant into the touch, holding Draco’s hand in place.

“And I’m lucky,” Draco continued, his eyes looking at something beyond Harry. “Because now your dads have adopted me.”

“My dads?”

“Black and Lupin.” He kissed him again, barely pulling away from him this time, so that his lips brushed against Harry’s whilst he spoke. “They’ve done more for me than he ever could.”

Harry’s hands found Draco’s waist. He nodded against him, his mouth half open on Draco’s. There was nothing he could say and he didn’t think there was anything he needed to say. Draco had a good waist. He liked holding it. He liked that when his thumbs ran over the ridge of his hipbones Draco’s breath hitched and he pulled Harry closer.

He was incredibly glad that he had decided to go for a walk. He had thought he needed air – he hadn’t – he had needed Draco.

This was his favourite thing, when they could just sit there and hold each other. When he could just hear Draco’s breath in his ears and he could forget everything. He could forget that Dumbledore had given him a task – an important task that he didn’t want to know about. The word Horcrux filled him with a strange dread. He felt like it was something that he didn’t want to know. That would be bad for him to know. But Dumbledore had asked him. He had initially said no. No, he hadn’t agreed to do that. Not after last year. He couldn’t just be ignored for a year and then asked to do favours.

“I told you, Harry,” Dumbledore had said, in that oh-so patient voice of his. “I stayed away from you because I thought it would make Voldemort stay away from you.”

“It didn’t really work, did it?” he had snapped. He had wanted to stand then. He had wanted to walk away and disappear – like Dumbledore kept doing to him. To just leave without telling anyone where he was going.

“I believed that we had moved past this. That we were going to let bygones be bygones.”

Harry wondered when he had said that. He didn’t move. He just held Dumbledore’s gaze. The younger part of him – the part that was still eleven and trusted that Dumbledore would make everything okay – squirmed. No, it seemed to say, Dumbledore is good. Don’t behave like a spoilt teenager.

Why did he feel like he was being a _spoilt_ teenager? Dumbledore hadn’t spoiled him – he had grown further and further away from Harry these last years. Harry didn’t seem to matter that much to him anymore – because he always found trouble and brought trouble with him. He had never been spoilt by anyone in his life, he had decided. He had a right to behave spoilt now.

But then Dumbledore, still as calm as ever, had simply asked, “Harry, are you really going to let your personal feelings towards me get in the way of winning this war?”

He had felt guilty then – really guilty. This wasn’t just his fight.

“It shouldn’t be my war to win.”

“I know.” There was that look of immense sadness he had worn last summer. “But unfortunately that’s the way it is. I need you to step up for me, Harry. Maybe, with this information, I might be able to save you from some of the fight.”

That idea had been appealing. It had made Harry shuffle and bit his lip for a moment. Just get something out of Slughorn. Surely it wouldn’t be that hard. Then he could step back and avoid it all.

So he had agreed.

And Dumbledore’s smile seemed to suggest that he had known Harry would have all along.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N): Another late chapter!  
> Ooops.  
> But yeah, a lot of stuff kinda happens in the book at this point, but not much like?? That links with this?? So kind of just my ramblings for 4000 words.  
> But I hope you enjoyed - thank you for the comments xx


	14. 14

When Harry woke up in the Hospital Wing, he was more than a little annoyed that his bed was nowhere near Ron's. What was the point of being bedridden if he couldn't even start shenanigans with his best friend?

On the other hand, Draco was sat by his bed, and that was certainly a plus. He was sat with one hand pinching his nose, looking more annoyed than concerned about Harry. That was fair - he ended up in here so often that it was probably more of a nuisance. Draco was probably thinking about the pile of homework he had to do tonight, instead of his boyfriend getting hit in the back of the head with a bludger.

But he still glanced over at Harry and the smile on his face was more relieved than his usual smirk.

"Good morning, trouble," he said, shifting his chair closer to Harry's bed. "Slept in long enough."

"Mm, I could have done with a few more hours," Harry shrugged. "What happened with the match? How badly did we lose?"

"Really?” Draco sighed, his face returning to his hand as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You crack your skull open and all your worried about is a Quidditch match?"

"Yeah,” Harry couldn’t see the problem, but maybe that’s because he wasn’t wearing his glasses. He put them back on with a clumsy hand. “What happened?"

"Why is my boyfriend so useless?" Draco sighed into his hand.

And that did make Harry feel bad. Just a little.

"Wait!” he frowned at Draco, feigning surprise. "You're _taken_?"

Draco only glanced at him for a moment, before he snorted. "I know you don't have memory loss, you dork."

"So, you love your useless boyfriend?"

"Mm."

"Say it.” Harry wasn’t sure why he was grinning when it felt like his head had split in two.

"I love my useless boyfriend," Draco said it mockingly, but then he reached over and took hold of Harry’s hand. His face grew serious. "Who lost the Quidditch match."

"Well damn."

“That’s not what’s important,” Draco said.

“What could be more important than Quidditch?” Harry wanted to sit up. He wanted to sit and hold both of Draco’s hands and pull him to him. Maybe it was just the concussion, but he looked like he was _glowing_ in the bright sunlight coming from the window. Like he was an angel. But he couldn’t move. His body felt like lead and his head still hurt.

“Do you remember what happened? How you hit your head?” Draco asked. Harry nodded and regretted it immediately. It made the whole room spin. “Well, everyone’s saying that McLaggen hit you because you’re gay.” Bi, Harry wanted to say. He was pretty sure he was bi, but maybe that’s because no one seemed to listen when he said it. It wasn’t like there was anyone around now to get the wrong impression. “There seems to be a school-wide debate on whether he was right to do it or not.”

“Oh yeah?” Harry wasn’t sure he really cared. “He was just pissing me off honestly – I told him to stop messing around with the beaters.”

“He’s stayed awkwardly silent about the whole thing. I think he can’t decide whether to agree with them or not. Oh, and Weasley’s out of the hospital wing. He’s talking about breaking up with Brown.”

“You know all the gossip, don’t you?” Harry smirked.

“What else am I supposed to do when you’re out of action?”

Harry laughed, and hated how that hurt too. “Where is Ron?”

Draco shrugged. He shifted again, so that he was sat on the bed, looking at Harry with that serious face. “How are you feeling?”

“I’ve been through worse.” It was Harry’s turn to shrug.

“You think you’re so tough, don’t you?”

“Someone’s got to protect you.” He said it earnestly enough, but Draco still laughed. He leant over and kissed Harry’s forehead, tucking the blankets up to his chin like he was a child.

“That’s right,” he said. “My knight in shining armour.”

Harry grinned at him. He was being patronising and he knew it, but it also sent a flurry of warmth through his chest. “And you wouldn’t leave your knight in shining armour alone and injured, would you?”

“I thought you’d been through worse?” and Draco just laughed again at the disappointment that swept across his face. “Fine. I’ll stay – but I’m just going to do homework and ignore you, you know.”

He went to stand, to get his school bag, but Harry’s fingers tightened on his, calling his attention back.

“Silent is how I like you, darling.”

Which made Draco scoff and roll his eyes. But, Harry was pleased to note, made pink spread across his cheeks too. That made him feel proud of himself.

He loved afternoons like this. It sounded cheesy, even to himself, so he didn’t say it allowed. These quiet afternoons where they didn’t have to talk to each other and were just close to each other. Harry could just watch Draco reading – watch his eyebrows draw together whenever he was concentrating hard or his eyelids droop when he was finding it hard to concentrate. Once or twice he bit his lip and Harry found himself mirroring the action. He wanted to sit up and take Draco’s mouth in his own. Maybe knock the textbook to the floor and sit himself in Draco’s lap instead.

But the world was still spinning and he saw stars whenever he tried to move. So, he made his piece by peppering Draco’s hand in kisses instead. Draco ran a hand through his hair in response, like he was petting a dog.

This was as close to home away from Grimmauld Place as he was going to get. The thought made him feel strange – being close to Draco felt like home. When had that happened? When had he been okay with that?

That attachment made him feel guilt curl in his stomach. He couldn’t afford to care about anyone that much. It made people targets. Now it would only be a matter of time before Voldemort would use Draco against him. Or would just hurt Draco to get at him.

Well, he had done that once. Harry glanced at Draco’s forearm – covered by his shirt sleeve. The scar was there. Draco could claim it was his own fault all he liked but it didn’t change that it could happen again – it could happen again and it would be Harry’s fault the next time. What would be the next time?

He couldn’t think about that.

And yet, he had to think about that – because just the next week he passed Theodore Nott in the corridor and, as they passed each other, said “you have to get Malfoy out of the castle.”

The words had run in Harry’s ears for the rest of the day. They seemed simple enough and yet he didn’t seem able to comprehend them. All he knew was that they filled him with unease.

He managed to grab Nott’s sleeve as he was walking out of potions the next day. Nott glanced back and tried, half-heartedly, to pull away. Harry gripped his wrist instead.

“We need to talk,” he said.

Nott glanced around him, at the other Slytherins. They were already walking down the corridor without a second glance. Hermione had started up an argument with Draco about the correct way to make Pepperup potion and Ron was backing her up. As much as Harry hated to admit it, he would probably side with her too. He loved Draco, but Hermione knew everything.

Everything that the Prince didn’t, that is.

But soon it was just the two of them outside the classroom, and Harry could see Nott flailing for an excuse. Eventually he gave a terse nod.

“Okay.”

He pushed past Harry, running a hand through his dark hair. He looked nervous – uncharacteristically nervous. Normally Nott seemed unfazed by everything around him, but when he stopped in a dead end and leant against the wall, he looked _tired_. His skin was pale, almost green in the ghostly light of the dungeons, and there were dark rings under his eyes.

“Katie Bell got back to Hogwarts the other day,” Harry said, because there was something inside him that told him that it was important. “She said she was given the cursed necklace in The Three Broomsticks. You know something about it. Don’t you?”

Nott didn’t reply for a moment. He took a rattling breath. “I don’t know much, Potter.”

“But you know that Draco needs to get out the castle-“ the penny dropped. “Is that it? That’s it, isn’t it? That’s the job you’ve all been given to do-“

“What job?” Nott was frowning, like he was confused. He looked dazed, like he had just woken up. “

“Voldemort’s got all of the Death Eater’s kids to do something at Hogwarts-“

“It’s not that,” Nott said. “That’s not-“

“Then what is it?” Harry pressed.

“That doesn’t matter – it doesn’t matter who they’re after, Harry.”

“Of course it does.”

“What’s important is that you get Draco out.”

It was like talking to a sphinx. Harry sighed and leant against the wall.

Nott’s mouth twitched upwards. He leant against the opposite wall. “Well, if you’d give me half a chance to explain-“

“Why are you telling me this now?” Harry demanded. He knew he should shut up – that he should hear Nott out, but as always, he couldn’t control the anger crawling up his stomach. He hated it, but he couldn’t stop it. It was like there was another person inside him and he couldn’t stop them. “You could have told us this ages ago, if you knew! What, is it too late to stop things now?”

“I don’t know,” Nott said, quietly. “I don’t know if it is.”

Harry crossed his arms, feeling the heat in his glower. Nott wasn’t looking at him. He was oddly still, as though he had been frozen in place.

“I’ve only just connected all the pieces myself,” he said. Still in that careful, low tone of voice. “I don’t spend a lot of time with the others – I don’t know if you’ve noticed that. Draco and I sleep in the Room of Requirement and because of that none of the others want to talk to me very much. They’re sure Draco’s got his grubby gay paws all over me.”

“And has he?” Harry’s voice was more of a growl.

“Nothing has happened between me and Draco.” Nott said. It was as close to a snap as he had ever given him. “If you’re asking whether I’m bent?  I’d rather keep it to myself whether I am or not. It keeps me nice and safe. Creates a nice air of mystery around me too – Weasley still can’t figure out whether I’m flirting with him or not.”

Harry wanted to laugh, then. Maybe he would if he wasn’t still clenching his jaw.

“Look-“ Nott ran his hand through his curls again. The light made him look even more sculpted than usual. “I talked to Bell too – and Weasley told me about what happened with that wine. Neither of them were the intended target.”

“Are you going to tell me who was, or are you going to make me guess?”

“Well, you haven’t so far, have you?” Nott’s mouth twitched. “It’s-“ he glanced around. “Look – you can’t – I’m not involved. Not anymore – I haven’t spoken to my father in months and I don’t know what I’m going to do this Summer. He probably has my mother or she won’t want me – I’d just bring trouble, I can’t go back there-“

Harry held up a hand. “I’ll figure something out for you, Nott.”

They were still friends after all, and Nott looked relieved at that. He smiled – one of those very white, very even smiles.

“Thanks, Potter – really,” he said and pulled Harry into a tight hug. He froze, standing ramrod straight. But then Nott whispered in his ear, “They’re after Dumbledore.”

“What?” Harry stayed completely still as Nott pulled away and nodded.

“I’ve been going through everyone it could be and it’s the only one that makes sense – it wouldn’t be you – my dad says that he-who-must-not-be-named wants to kill you himself, if that makes you sleep easier. And he doesn’t want to kill Draco – he’s already been punished and I’m sure they’re hoping that he’ll come to their side soon enough. There’s no one else at Hogwarts _he_ has a personal grudge against. Bell said she was bringing that to the teachers, right? And Slughorn would have planned to give that wine to a teacher, right? Who else?”

“McGonagall?” Harry suggested. She was also a member of the order, after all. “Katie’s a Gryffindor-“

“And she’d drink wine from Slughorn? No way. Ask him who he was going to give it to – I’m sure I’m right.”

Harry opened his mouth to say that he and Slughorn weren’t on good terms at the moment. Since he’d asked about Horcruxes, the man had barely glanced at him.

But a small part of him suspected that Nott was right – or at least onto something. It made sense – vague sense. And he didn’t know how he felt about it. He hadn’t been on good terms with Dumbledore either, certainly not of late, but he didn’t want to see him _die_. He still remembered when Dumbledore’s voice was calming and his smile made Harry grin. When just a letter from him had saved Harry from the Dursley’s. When he had been calm and wise and had all the answers. He still wanted to see that Dumbledore – he didn’t want to see that Dumbledore die.

And had he changed, really? Or had Harry changed? It felt like in the last two years Harry had just gotten angry and frustrated. Maybe he was the one taking everything the wrong way. Dumbledore still cared about him.

He was sure.

So he left that – for a moment, because it was making his chest feel tight and he didn’t want to deal with all of those feelings.

“What has this got to do with Draco?” Harry asked instead.

“I spend a lot of time in the Room of Requirement.” Nott started walking back down the corridor and Harry matched his step. “I keep coming across the same room – the room that’s full of a jumble of stuff and once – Zabini was there. With Crabbe and Goyle – well, not Goyle at first.” He ran a hand through his hair again and it stayed there. “But he stepped out of this cabinet.”

“Maybe they were playing hide and seek?” It was an awful attempt at a joke. But he wasn’t sure what else to do. He was losing his breathe – he had felt like this before and he didn’t like it.

“No, I’ve seen it before. In Borgin and Burkes. An identical one.”

“So what? They brought this cabinet-“

“No. No – they said this was the last resort. That they were going to bring the force through the cabinet. I think Goyle was just a guinea pig to see if they could get people through it.”

Harry stopped. He really couldn’t breathe for a moment.

“People meaning Death Eaters,” he whispered.

“And Draco can’t be at the castle when they come.” Nott said. He took hold of Harry’s elbow. “He has to be away from the castle. Away from here. Can you do that for me?”

Harry wanted to nod. He wanted to nod so badly.

And yet he had a feeling that he was going to have to make a decision. One that he didn’t want to make.

*

Aragog’s funeral went about as awkwardly as Harry could expect it. But at least he got the memory from Slughorn.

And at least Draco had been drinking. He had insisted on going with Harry, snaking an arm through his and leaning against him as they walked down in the dusk. Maybe it was because he was scared of stray bludger bats flying through the air. Harry wasn’t about to argue.  When he had told Draco what Nott had said, Draco had bit his lip and looked at Harry seriously.

“I’m the safest by your side,” he had said and kissed Harry with an open mouth. “It all went wrong last year because we split up.”

So he was probably going to have to trick him into getting back to Grimmauld Place. He would be safe there.

As long as they used a portkey instead of floo powder. Floo powder had been where it had gone wrong last year.

That was the plan. But he would have to do it soon. He had no idea when the Slytherins were going to use the cabinet. Draco would have to go and soon – exams be damned.

Harry knew he wasn’t going to like it, so whilst Draco was still sweet on him, he was going to make the most of it.

Draco hadn’t even waited until they had stepped out of Hagrid’s hut before Harry was  pressed against the wall, the breath knocked out of him. Draco’s tongue was practically down his throat and he stunk of butterbeer, but he was warm against the cold night air. He was warm and his hands were running up and down Harry’s waist, unable to found a place to settle.

Harry’s own hands found a place – he pulled Draco’s hips closer to him using his grip on his rear. Draco stumbled closer, his crotch pressing against Harry’s hip. He lifted his leg just enough to feel Draco gasp against him.

He took the opportunity to pull away. Draco’s cheeks were red and he was breathing heavily. It made Harry’s stomach leap.

“Where’s this come from?” he whispered. Draco shifted his hips and the movement made Harry’s breath catch.

Draco shrugged. “Because I know what you’re thinking – you want to send me away to keep me safe like I’m some Princess.”

“No,” Harry said. He slowly turned, so that Draco was the one pressed against the brick. He could still hear Slughorn and Hagrid singing inside. “Because I have no idea what Death Eaters would do if they found you-“ Draco kissed him again – so hard that he was sure his mouth would hurt the next morning. Harry pulled away again, taking hold of Draco’s chin to keep him in place. “I’ve already lost one person. I don’t want to lose another.”

“And this is me changing your mind,” Draco murmured. His tongue flickered out like a snake’s against Harry’s wrist. He turned his mouth into Harry’s palm, taking hold of it and running his lips down Harry’s forearm.

“Hagrid is on the other side of that wall mourning his dead giant spider,” Harry whispered. He was trying not to giggle at Draco’s feather-light touch. “And I don’t think we’ll be making out with the Death Eaters.”

“Maybe my judgements a little obscured,” Draco mumbled, peppering Harry’s jaw in kisses. He tilted his head upwards to accommodate.

“You’re drunk.”

“And you’re sober.” Draco kissed him. “Too sober.”

Harry laughed, then clapped a hand over his mouth. “Hagrid’s right there. _Slughorn_ ’s right there.”

“Then you’d better be quiet,” Draco whispered. His hips moved against Harry’s thighs again – harder this time – and he had to bite his lip.

This was not how he had planned to introduce Draco to Hagrid – not as his boyfriend, anyway. But Hagrid had seemed overjoyed at the turn-out of Aragog’s funeral. As always, Draco had been perfectly civilised. He had even started a conversation with Slughorn about the classification of Mythical Beasts. He had gotten an invitation to the Slug Club within the half hour.

“Of course – of course you should come!” Slughorn had cried. “Any friend of Harry’s is a friend of mine. That stunt you pulled at the disco – incredible.”

He still had no idea that Draco and Harry weren’t just friends. Harry wondered if he’d still clung to that idea now, when Draco was kissing him mercilessly and he was half-hard and honestly Draco had a point. He was exhausted after chasing after that memory – and the whole evening had been so absurd that maybe this was a good idea. Maybe it was just the liquid luck making him feel that way.

So he kept kissing Draco. And Draco kept kissing him, his hands snaking under Harry’s top. His fingers cooled the sweat on his back, and he sighed into him.

There was a sudden thud next to them and Harry acted on instinct – flinging them both onto the ground. He felt a tiny pumpkin smash under him and sincerely hoped that they were hidden from sight. Dark leaves obscured the night sky.

He could hear Slughorn – maybe Hagrid was with him – stumbling from the hut. He held his breath, trying to gauge when he had disappeared completely.

Draco didn’t give him the chance. He had landed on Harry’s arm, and now he rolled over so that he was sat on Harry’s chest. He grinned down at him, pressing his forehead against Harry’s. He kissed him – more softly this time. He took Harry’s bottom lip in his own, playing with it tenderly, his legs settling either side of Harry’s hips.

And Harry suddenly realised why Draco liked having him sat in his lap. Draco looked good there, he decided, his fingers tracing up Draco’s thighs. That made him pull away, panting against Harry’s cheek. He caught Harry’s hands in his, repeating the action.

This was completely inappropriate, Harry was thinking – but it was getting harder to think straight. He had drunk Liquid Luck – they weren’t going to get caught. He was feeling delirious – Draco filled all of his senses.

So he rolled his hips against Draco and was starting to think-

“Ginny Weasley, wait!”

The cry sounded distant, but close enough that the boys in the pumpkin patch paused. Draco’s chest was still rising and falling heavily, his hair falling in front of his face. For once, he looked dishevelled – Harry had fallen in love with that look already.

Draco shifted off of him and he pulled himself into a crouch. It was uncomfortable, sat here so close to Draco and yet – and yet he couldn’t just let that figure storm away from the castle and into the night by herself.

It must have sobered Draco, because he was wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and standing up. He offered a hand to Harry and he used it to pull himself to his feet.

Draco was watching the castle. There was another figure silhouetted in that light. It was hard to make out, but he had recognised that voice. He had never heard that voice so urgent and panicked. He hadn’t though Luna ever _worried_ about anything.

“Think we’re going to have to continue that at a later date, _mon ange_ ,” Draco said, and he only stumbled over the words a little bit.

“And here I thought I had drunk felix felicis tonight.”

“Your luck just ran out,” Draco hooked an arm around his waist, pressing one final kiss against his forehead. “I’ll take Lovegood if you take Weasley?”

Harry nodded. He lifted his head for another kiss, but Draco was right. His luck had run out for the night. He pulled away and tumbled across the grass to the retreating figure of Ginny Weasley. He heard Luna’s voice behind him – a panicked “I just want to see if she’s alright – I just-“ that was cut off by Draco talking softly. Quickly and softly, no doubt leading her back up to the castle. How he went from drunken lovesick puppy to kind big brother in less than a minute, Harry couldn’t guess.

And he had to do the same. He broke into a light jog, quickly regretted it, and opted for a brisk walk instead.

“Out for a walk?” he called when he thought he was close enough.

Ginny whipped around, her hair catching the wind and flying like a flag behind her. She had her wand out, her realised, and raised his hands in surrender. At least it was dark enough that she wouldn’t see his still tented trousers.

“I thought you were-“ Ginny trailed off. Her voice was thick and she scrubbed at her cheeks with the back of her hand. “Never mind.”

“You and Luna had a fight.” Harry said. It was more of a statement than a question.

“You heard.”

“No – not really,” Harry said. He just stood there, awkwardly. Like an idiot.

“I just-“ Ginny took a breath. She stepped closer to Harry, but her head was bent down so that her hair covered her face like a curtain. He could barely make out the words. “I’m so _sick_ of her being so – uncaring. She doesn’t give a damn when people – well, you know – you know more than anyone what Hogwarts is like when you’re the subject of gossip. She just sits there and takes it – no, not takes it. She sits there with a smile on her face and just accepts the slurs and the hate talk and the hexes like she’s a bloody matyr. She doesn’t _care_ about _any_ of it! She just tells me to ignore it – how? How can I? When people already called her loony – and –“ Ginny had to take several gulps of air. “And – and maybe they were right because I don’t understand how anyone in the right frame of mind can just _not care_. I _always_ fight for her – I always have and – and they call me a dyke and she just _sits_ there! Like it doesn’t matter! Tell me – how can it not matter? How can it-“

Harry had his arms around Ginny and was hugging her tightly before he even realised it himself. It had just been on instinct – a reflex because he had no bloody idea what to do. He had no idea how to calm her down or make things right. He wasn’t Draco – he wasn’t Luna, or Ron, or Hermione. He had no sage advice to offer. He only had a hug.

Ginny sobbed against his chest, sitting limply in his arms like a ragdoll.

“I really like her,” she managed to get out. “I really, _really_ like her, Harry, but I can’t live like this. You and Draco stick up for each other and I didn’t think that was so much to ask.”

“I think,” Harry took a breath. “I think she was trying to protect you. In her own way.”

“Lying to me is not protecting me. Ignoring the problem is not protecting me,” Ginny just seemed to burst into fresh sets of tears. Harry realised he should have just kept his stupid mouth shut. “If it had – if she had told me from the beginning about the confundus charm, maybe I would have – I wouldn’t have – I don’t know.”

“I don’t know, either, Ginny.” Harry said and he hoped he sounded soft and comforting. “I really don’t know what to do.”

“Just stay.”

She fell against him then, her whole weight, and Harry’s knees buckled. He managed to keep his grip on her, holding her tightly whenever her body wracked with sobs. Like if he held her tight enough it would make things better. It would make everything better.

It seemed to go on forever, those sobs that cut Harry to the core of his being. There was nothing more heart breaking than that sound. The sound of a heart not broken, but confused and scared and desperate.

He wasn’t sure how long it was before they began to subside. It was still pitch black out. This night seemed to be going on forever, he thought, as he felt Ginny’s body start to relax against him. He rubbed her back as if she was little – as if that would help her.

Eventually, he realised, she had fallen asleep. At least, her eyes were closed and she was breathing evenly, even if her cheeks were tearstained and red. She might not have been fully asleep, but she had no energy left.

So he did the only thing he could do – he carried her back to the castle and settled her on the sofa in the Common Room. He slept in small bursts – setting his watch for every hour, so that when it was morning, he could watch over her and make sure no one messed with her.

Just like he had done for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N): Completely unedited and written mostly today whilst watching Death in Paradise, but you know - you know, it works? We got plot progression, we got b pair progression and we got a few cute Drarry scenes. That's the chapter checklist.  
> Looking at the rest of Half Blood Prince, there's really not a lot of that book left. I might try and drag it out with some fluff, but I might not. I've got a vague idea of where the actions headed and I'd like to keep the tension. I think.  
> Then again, it took me like 5 chapters to wind down Hand in Glove, so - we'll just have to see.  
> Thanks for the support and the comments and the kudos and all that jazz. Love you and see you next week x
> 
> Tumblr: turnupsdrawssometimes.tumblr.com/ OR steamcogsandwebcomics.tumblr.com 
> 
> Instagram: www.instagram.com/turntups/
> 
> Deviantart: https://www.deviantart.com/animeinmypocket 
> 
> Webcomic: https://www.webtoons.com/en/challenge/in-his-shadow/page-eighty-three/viewer?title_no=226226&episode_no=86 or https://tapas.io/series/In-His-Shadow


	15. 15

15

Ginny had been horrified, of course, to find out that she had cockblocked Harry. Harry had assured her that it was fine – that there would be other times.

“Still,” Ginny said. “Behind Hagrid’s hut is hardly the place to do it, is it?”

Harry felt his whole face burning.  He managed to shrug, running a hand through his hair.

“I mean – I feel like the danger is what makes it exciting.”

Ginny laughed then – so loudly that other Gryffindors in the Common Room turned to stare at her. She pressed a hand over her mouth to stifle it, whilst Harry just frowned at her. He couldn’t understand what he had said that was so hilarious.

“Oh, Harry – I meant,” Ginny was still smirking. “Well, unless you had something to hand, or knew a spell – it would _kill._ ”

Harry blinked. And in the moment where the penny dropped, he was ready to throw himself off of the astronomy tower. He must have looked as though he had been slapped in the face, because Ginny burst into fresh peals of laughter.

“Someone’s feeling better,” Ron said, slipping into the armchair. He slept in until at least lunchtime on the weekends, and was still in his dressing gown. He pulled Harry’s homework towards him and stared at it with puffy eyes.

The thought immediately turned Ginny’s pale again. Her face dropped like a stone and her lip flew under her teeth. She looked tired, Harry thought. Unbelievably tired. He wondered if he looked like that when he had been fighting with Draco.

“Yeah, well, one good laugh doesn’t exactly solve the Luna situation,” Ginny said.

“I think she had a point,” Hermione appeared. Harry wondered if it was suspicious that she had arrived at exactly the same moment as Ron, then dismissed it. It was nothing. His friends were weird – they behaved weirdly. “It's too dangerous. Hogwarts is full of dickweeds.”

Harry had never heard Hermione swear before. It was scary. He wasn’t sure if he liked this new Hermione, though she did save his homework for him. Not that he could focus on it now – now that he was thinking of Draco. Draco with cheeks flushed from firewhiskey and his hair falling over his face.

“No,” Ron was glowering, his fist clenched on the table in front of him. “No. No one hurts my little sister and gets away with it.”

“Because it's loony Lovegood?” Hermione asked, turning a page in her textbook.

“What?”

“Well say it was Harry. Say harry was the one dating Ginny, would you punch him in?”

“But Harry's gay.”

Bi, Harry corrected in his head. And if he wasn’t taken, then Ginny was a very lovely girl. He was sure that he would admire the way her hair shone in the sunlight.

“Well say that he wasn't.”

“If Harry was dating Ginny and hurt her, then I'm sorry mate, but I’d have to kill you,” Ron looked only partly apologetic.

Harry shrugged. That was fair, he supposed. “Leaving Voldemort to conquer the wizarding world.”

“Aw, Ron, you'd let the wizarding world fall into fascism for me?”

“That’s my job.”

“It’s really not,” Hermione said. She sighed. “Surely, you and Luna can find some kind of middleground.”

“Oh yeah, she can only half-stand up for me. That’ll work,” Ginny leant back in her chair, so that she was balancing on two of the legs. She glared out the window. “I wish she’d do something romantic – like Draco crashing Slughorn’s party for Harry.”

“Well, that is Draco. He does have a flair for dramatics.”

“ _Luna_ has a flair for dramatics. When it’s about nargles or thestrals.”

“I think you can use that to your advantage,” Hermione hummed. “Maybe there’s some creature you could invent.”

“Okay, first – nargles _are_ real. And anyway – that would just be lying. The cycle would continue.”

Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes. “All of you with your relationship problems. We’re in the middle of a _war._ ”

That triggered something in Harry. He remembered Theordore Nott, his skin green in the light of the dungeons, telling him that he thought Dumbledore’s life was in danger. That there was a cabinet that connected to one in Diagon Alley – and Death Eaters could be coming through it in the next few months. It sent a chill through him and suddenly he was splurting everything out to the three around him.

At least it made Ginny sit up and look alert.

“Well you have to tell someone.” Hermione said. “You have to tell _Dumbledore_.”

Harry paused. He nodded, to make it look as though he was paying attention.

He didn’t want to tell Dumbledore. The thought made his stomach curl into himself. The last time they had a serious conversation – one that wasn’t about Voldemort’s memories, Harry had been shot down. One thing had become clear – Dumbledore wasn’t interested in telling Harry anything. Not anything personal. Not anything that Harry didn’t need to know. Because now Harry had only one purpose and that was to kill Voldemort.

That was always his purpose.

So he wouldn’t tell Dumbledore either. If he wasn’t going to pay attention to Harry, then Harry wouldn’t pay attention to him.

But he couldn’t just not tell anyone.

He slipped off in the afternoon, pretending that was just what he was going to do. In the end, he was standing outside of McGonagall’s office, scuffing the floor with his trainer. He had been standing outside the door for five minutes, and would have stood for five minutes more, if it had not suddenly opened.

“Potter?” McGonagall was frowning down at him.

Harry opened his mouth but nothing came out. He swallowed.

“Professor,” he managed to say. “I was just about to knock – honest.”

“Of course,” McGonagall’s face was as unreadable as ever, but she opened the door wider. “Would you like to come in?”

Why was he so nervous suddenly? Maybe it was because he had overheard that conversation she had with Snape. McGonagall was on his side – she was even on Draco’s side. That was what a teacher should do.

He wondered for a moment, if this was a normal school – what would the teachers do? He had no doubt that it would be their fault – they were being bullied because they had the audacity to be different. Dudley’s school had taught him that much.

Then he remembered that McGonagall had asked him a question and nodded.

“Um, yeah – if that’s okay?” But he was already stepping into her office.

“It’s my job as your head of house to always be there when you need me, Potter.” McGonagall said. She snapped the door shut with a click. “Even if I was just about to leave for dinner.”

“Oh, sorry – you can, I mean, I can wait.” Harry said, without even thinking about it. He had never done this before. Never came up to a teacher because something dangerous was happening at Hogwarts. Danger was usually something him, Ron and Hermione handled. And if he had any problems with homework – that was something just Hermione handled.

This was the first time he was in McGonagall’s office because he wanted to be – not because of some mandatory meeting or because he was in trouble. It was a strange feeling to not be in trouble.

“It can wait, five minutes, I’m sure.” McGonagall said. She swept back to her desk and sat down, adjusting papers that were already sat at right angles.  “Please, sit.”

Harry did, so quickly that he might as well have been under the imperius curse, and so quickly that it stung. Now that he sat here, he wasn’t even sure where to begin. He took a moment, biting his lip to try and gather his thoughts. It was even harder under McGonagall’s eagle eyes.

“Well, um, Nott – Theodore Nott, he was talking to me the other day and-“ was that the best place to begin? Harry wasn’t sure. “And he thinks – I think too – that Ron getting poisoned, Katie Bell and the cursed necklace – that they’re related incidents, because-“ McGonagall had leant backwards slightly and that made Harry talk faster. Because he wasn’t crazy. He couldn’t be crazy, not this time. “Because apparently Voldemort’s interested in getting at someone at Hogwarts-“ the eyebrow was raising – Harry had to talk _quicker_. “HeknowsbecausetheSlytherinboyskeepbraggingaboutbeinggivenatask.”

There was a silence. A horrible, deadly silence that told Harry McGonagall didn’t believe a word he was saying.

“Teenage boys have a tendency to brag, Mr Potter.”

“Nott was under the imperius curse at the start of term. We know, we broke him out of it,” Harry said. He fought to keep his voice even and it was only the fear of McGonagall that kept his anger in check. “Do teenage boys usually use unforgiveable curses on each other?”

McGonagall was watching him carefully. He wished he could read something other than ‘disapproving’ on her face.

“Sometimes.” She said.

Harry’s stomach curled into itself. He knew exactly why he was saying that and images he didn’t want to think about popped into his head.

He pushed Draco out, trying to open his mouth to argue – to come up with some decisive proof he was telling the truth, but McGonagall continued.

“If the other students are harassing you, there is no need to come up with a farfetched story. You can tell me. Unlike Professor Snape, I don’t believe in leaving you all to fend for yourselves in some sort of hideous wilderness.”

“No – no, I’m fine – we’re-“ Harry ran a hand through his hair. He flashed the back of the same hand and tried for a smile. “I must not tell lies, professor.” She didn’t laugh. Harry wondered when his sense of humour had gotten so strange. “It’s not about that. Nott’s seen them planning something – he and Draco stay in the Room of Requirement and – they’ve seen them.”

The other eyebrow raised and Harry gave a sharp sigh. There was it – the twang that snapped his patience. That was why he had never come to a teacher, he realised, because it all seemed too outrageous for them. Despite something outrageous happening every year, grown ups just wouldn’t listen to kids.

So he stood, and said, “just – nevermind. I’ll figure something out.”

He had his hand on the doorknob when McGonagall called out.

“Wait, Potter.”

*

Ridiculous, Harry thought. It was completely ridiculous.

McGonagall had finally heard him out – heard that he was worried for Draco and Dumbledore. Dumbledore more only because he was their last line of defence before Voldemort could just wander into Hogwarts. Dumbledore because he seemed to know how to defeat Voldemort and he was the only one who knew how.

She had listened to him and just told him that she would keep her eyes peeled and that he should sit tight. Sit tight. Like he was a child at the back with a pair of scissors – not someone who had defeated Voldemort four times at age sixteen. Not someone who knew what they were doing and knew the consequences of not telling someone what was going on. Last time he hadn’t told someone what was going on, Mr Weasley had died, Draco had become a werewolf and Voldemort had risen to power. It was hard to imagine what would be able to top that.

But still, McGonagall was going to be prowling around as a cat, so surely he could rest easy. He rolled his eyes at that. Watching wasn’t going to do anything. Just watching would mean it would be too late.

And what was Harry supposed to do? Just live on edge until it happened? It was already getting close to exam season – how would he be able to live with the stress.

“What’s wrong?” Draco’s mouth was pulling away from his collarbone, his nose nudging against Harry’s jaw.

“Wrong? Why would you think something’s wrong?”

“Because you’ve been sat there staring into space for the last five minutes. It’s like kissing a statue, Potter.” Draco’s hand tilted Harry’s chin down, so that he was meeting grey eyes. “You rolled your eyes when I nipped your ear.”

Now that he mentioned it, his ear _was_ tingling. He blinked and tried to bring himself back to the room. The Shrieking Shack. Morning – with the sun blasting mercilessly through the curtains. This had been the routine. Every time there was a full moon there was a mini vacation to a bed bug infested hotel for Harry and Draco. Romantic.

“Sorry, I was – miles away,” Harry said. He forced himself to move his fingers, to give Draco’s hips a light squeeze. It was his turn to receive and eye roll, Draco slipped off of his lap, so that only his legs were still draped across Harry.

“I didn’t realise I was so boring,” Draco said.

“You’re not – I’m just – stressed.” Harry leant his forehead on Draco’s knees. “Dumbledore never listens, McGonagall won’t listen – I don’t know how to fix this.” His hand wrapped itself around Draco’s leg, his thumb rubbing circles. He was actually wearing jeans – Harry’s, of course. He looked better in them than he ever had. “Other than making you leave the castle.”

“And that’s impossible, is it?”

“It’s impossible to get you to do anything. You’re like a cat. You’re _worse_ than a cat – you’re a-“

“Fox?”

Harry turned his head to see that Draco was smirking at him. He did look like a fox with that lopsided smirk. With his hair flicked back like that. Harry hated him. And loved him. So, so much.

“A jellyfish, or something.”

“A fox,” Draco said, firmer this time. “A fox that _you_ don’t want to leave, because we have unfinished business.”

He shifted his foot, so that Harry’s head lost its rest and his heel dug into his crotch. Harry’s stomach squirmed eagerly – he pushed Draco’s legs off of him. He wanted to roll his eyes, but he was smiling slightly. Why couldn’t he ever be angry at Draco anymore?

“Fuck you.”

“Why don’t you?”

“I’m being serious.”

“I thought serious was your Godfather.” Draco’s smirk widened, and his foot hooked around Harry’s ankle. He ran his foot up Harry’s leg.

“You’re nervous,” Harry said. It had only just occurred to him and he knew he was right when Draco’s eyes widened.

“How’d you mean?”

“You flirt when you’re nervous,” Harry continued, because it had all clicked into place. “It’s your defence mechanism – you did it last year too, because you were just as nervous and confused as I was and you flirted with me like that all the time. This is scaring you – really, isn’t it?”

“I wasn’t confused. I knew I liked you,” Draco’s foot bounced up and down against the back of his leg. “Your stupid hair and your stupid face and your stupid smile.” He frowned, glaring at his leg as though it was behaving of its own accord. “But I was nervous. If my father heard about it-“ he broke off. He sat up, searching Harry’s eyes with an intensity that made him want to pull away. “So, I’m scared, what are you going to do about it?”

“I’m going to hug you.” Harry said. “I’m going to hug you so hard.”

He had Draco in his arms moments later, pressing him to him and clinging onto him despite Draco’s squirming. It lasted a moment before they fell onto the mattress. But Draco was laughing and Harry was laughing. And his arms were still around Draco’s neck and their faces were still close.

“Don’t send me away, _mon ange_ ,” Draco whispered. His fingers wove themselves into Harry’s shirt. They were close enough that Harry could feel his breath on his face. “I know I’m safe if I’m with you. That’s the only way I know I’m safe.”

“So you thought you’d flirt shamelessly until you got your way?” Harry wanted to keep smiling.

“You’re a simple man,” Draco replied. Harry stuck his tongue out and he chuckled. But then his gaze dropped. “But I have been thinking about it – about doing-“

“It?”

“Yes.” Draco wet his mouth, speaking slowly, as if he had to pick the words out of the air. “I don’t know if…I _want_ to, but – sometimes it seems like you do and that my body does and I’ve been…thinking about it.”

Harry was at a loss for words. It felt as though someone had just hit the ‘stop’ button on him. He couldn’t think – he couldn’t even figure out what he was feeling. He closed his eyes, because he thought that would make it easier.

He wanted to keep laughing. He didn’t want to have these conversations when the sun was so warm.

“I don’t think a room full of bed bugs is the best place to do it,” he managed to say.

Draco gave half a laugh, and shifted.

“Maybe you’re right.” He was trying to get up, off of a mattress that threatened to swallow you whole. He was propped up on one arm, his other somewhere near Harry’s head to pull the rest of him up. There was something in his eyes – something Harry couldn’t read properly because he wasn’t looking at him.

That was what made the words finally arrive.

“I’ve been thinking about it too.”

And now Draco was over him and he felt a little trapped but mostly safe.

“I’ve been thinking about it,” Harry said again. “But – I don’t – I don’t know.”

“It’s okay.”

“I don’t know what to do about anything.” Harry said. The words came out in a panic. He couldn’t stop them. “I don’t know what to do about you or Voldemort and I don’t know who can help or even who to turn to anymore.”

Draco didn’t say anything. He just looked at Harry with half-lidded eyes. He looked tired – more than werewolf tired. Then he leant down and kissed Harry’s forehead. Very slowly – his lips staying there for a long time. He was thinking, Harry knew, and he took hold of Draco’s shirt to keep him there.

“I think I know,” Draco murmured after a long time. He looked down, so that his lips trailed down Harry’s nose. “Do you remember our part time job?”

“How could I forget?”

“Did you forget he’s Dumbledore’s brother.”

“He’s all the way in Hogsmede,” Harry said. He could feel Draco’s lips brushing against his as he spoke and swallowed. “And I don’t think they’re on speaking terms.”

“I’m sorry, what ideas do you have?” Draco said. “Darling?”

And when he put it like that, Harry didn’t have an argument. Mainly because when Draco whispered like that it made sparks fly out of his brain and he couldn’t form a single coherent thought other than ‘kiss this boy.’

And that was how he ended up in the Hog’s Head. They had explained everything – cutting across each other and adding important parts in.

Harry had expected some alarm. Some kind of ‘well we must inform the ministry’ or ‘why haven’t you told Dumbledore?’ Maybe some concern that someone at Hogwarts had a target on their back, or that Voldemort was going to be so close to Hogsmede. Surely that created a tense atmosphere.

But Aberforth just leant back in his rickety old chair and asked, “Why are you telling me this?”

They had tried to explain.

“Dumbledore doesn’t listen to me,” Harry had said. Draco’s foot nudged his under the table. He nudged back automatically, because he hated that ‘oh so understanding’ look that had come across Aberforth’s face. Mixed in with a much more aggravating ‘I told you so’ look.

“So what makes you think he’ll listen to me?”

And Harry didn’t have an answer to that. He just shrugged and muttered that he didn’t know who else to tell. For all the effort of sneaking off to Hogsmede, they just got a shrug and a “I’ll keep an eye on things as best as I can.”

That was what all the adults around him seemed to say. That they’d keep an eye on things. They’d keep an eye on things, but they wouldn’t actually do anything.

It was getting hard to focus on homework and apparating and all of the things at Hogwarts that everyone else was worrying about. That was how it had been every year, Harry realised as they headed back up the Hogsmede Highstreet. Every year it got to the point where he was more worried about life and death than his exams.

“I meant it, this morning,” Draco said, they had walked back up the path to the Shrieking Shack without a word. It was getting warmer now and the grass was dotted with yellows and purples of flowers.

His heart had stopped for a moment and he had to force himself to take a breath.

“What?”

“About being with you.” Draco said. He glanced over then, and a smirk appeared on his face. “Unless you wanted to talk about the other thing?”

“Not unless you do.” His face was burning.

But then Draco reached for his hand with nervous fingers. He gave him a gentle tug so that they were stood face to face, his eyes searching Harry’s face.

“Don’t send me away,” he whispered.

“I won’t.” Harry replied before his brain could tell him no. But he had said it and he meant it. He couldn’t do it. It would be worse – to think about Draco hiding somewhere and not knowing whether he was okay or not. Whether he had been found or not. It was easier to have him where Harry could _know_ for certain. Where Harry could throw himself in front of Draco if he needed too.

“If we stay together, we’ll be okay.” Draco said. His face looked even more pale in the sunlight, the rings under his eyes looking more like bruises than shadows. There was a terrible moment where he reminded Harry of Sirius standing in the Shrieking Shack – scared and desperate and _tired_. Harry wondered if he looked that _tired_ too.

“You’re really scared,” he murmured, without really meaning to.

“Of course I am.” Draco’s hands were trying to find a purchase on him – settling on his hips then running up them – his shoulders – his face. “What if they’re trying to kill me?”

“I wouldn’t let that happen.”

“What if they’re trying to kill you?”

“You wouldn’t let that happen.”

“Why won’t anybody _listen_ to you?” Draco said, and his fingers tightened on Harry’s curls. He was staring at Harry as though his eyes held the answer. As though Harry could give any answer. “You’re meant to be the chosen one and everyone’s just ignoring you.”

But Death Eaters seemed far away. Because Draco was scared. He was so scared that his arms were shaking slightly. Harry could only feel it when he put his hands on Draco’s elbows. That became the only thing that mattered. Draco was scared and Harry had to find a way to make him not scared.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “I promise, Draco. You’re not leaving my sight.”

“Oh really?” Draco raised an eyebrow. He was still shaking and tired.

Harry shook his head the best that he could, then peeled Draco’s fingers from his hair, entwining them with his own instead.

“I’m afraid, Draco Malfoy, that you will be stuck to me from now on.” He swung their hands in the air between them like a child. “Because I am the chosen one and I say so.”

“No one listens to the chosen one.” Draco’s hands felt limp in his. And cold – Draco never felt cold. Harry squeezed his hands.

“We don’t need McGonagall or Dumbledore’s brother,” he said. His gaze caught hold of the Hogwarts towers in the distance and suddenly it clicked into place. Suddenly, he had a plan. “We’ll get the DA – we can take it in turns to watch the Room of Requirement. We’ll keep an eye out for it ourselves and – we can fight. We have the element of surprise – they won’t be expecting a bunch of kids to stand up to them.”

But Draco still had his eyebrow raised. “I know you’re trying to be comforting, but that’s hardly defence plan, is it?”

“It’s better than nothing,” Harry snapped. He forced himself to soften his tone. “It’s better than just keeping an eye out.”

“It _is_ just keeping an eye out,” Draco said. “It’s a glorified keeping an eye out.”

“Well with everyone keeping an eye out then we should be fine,” Harry said. He pulled away, closing the distance between them and the shack. He leant on the corner of it, the boards creaking under his weight. The countryside was so empty. Fields stretched on to the horizon, emerald and olive and dark and light greens, all stretching on forever. Not a single thing was moving out there. There weren’t even any clouds drifting lazily across the sky. It was hard to believe that there was an evil dark wizard plotting murder out there, when a grasshopper was chirping and the birds were singing.

Draco’s arms wrapped around him and without thinking he leant backwards, slotting his hips against Draco’s. He received a kiss on the cheek and sighed, his hand finding Draco’s hair.

“I’m sorry, it was a great plan,” Draco said, with only a hint of sarcasm left. “Better than McGongagall’s, at any rate. Do you think she’ll even tell Dumbledore?”

“I think,” Harry paused. “I think he’d say that he already knows. He’s like that.  It’s like – it’s like we’re all pieces on his chess board and he’s just watching it all happen.”

“Why the hell do you like him so much then?” Draco’s hands were on Harry’s waist.

“Because – because I thought he cared. He made it seem like he cared. He was one of the first people to care about me – or, that was how he twisted it anyway.”

Draco muttered something in French, but he face was buried against Harry’s ear so he couldn’t make the word out. He gave a half-laugh that was mostly breath. It felt like there was a weight off of his shoulders – like he had realised something he didn’t even know he was carrying. He’d care for Dumbledore, he always would – out of a sense of duty more than anything.

But he also knew that he was not the first to care for Harry. And that his caring was nothing – _nothing_ – compared to this caring. This was the kind of caring that made Harry feel _loved_. It made him feel like he was worth something.

That he had to win against Voldemort. Because neither could live whilst the other survived and Harry didn’t feel obligated to survive or win. He very selfishly wanted to stay alive. For Draco. For his friends and family.

Friends and family that he’d gotten on his own.

He turned, leaning against Draco so that he didn’t have to support his own weight.

“What you were talking about this morning,” he said, his eyes closed because it was easier to talk about then. Because he didn’t have to look into Draco’s stupidly handsome face. “I’ve been thinking about it too.”

“Have you?”

“I’m kind of scared about it.”

Draco laughed then and when Harry opened his eyes he was genuinely smiling down at him.

“Yeah, that’s what there is to be scared about. Not the Death Eaters.”

But then he sighed. Then he kissed Harry’s forehead and let his mouth stay there – like he was stuck to him.

“I am too.” There was a mole on Draco’s neck. Harry ran his thumb over it. “But I keep thinking about that time – behind Hagrid’s hut and what would have happened if – if Weasley hadn’t come running out. Do you think we would have?”

“I don’t know.”

“I kind of wish we had,” Draco was playing with the hair at the nape of Harry’s neck and it tingled. “Just to have gotten it out of the way – just to have known, you know?”

“We could try it,” Harry said. His stomach was either vehemently agreeing or vehemently disagreeing. He couldn’t tell. It seemed to have been turned into butterflies and he couldn’t even look up at Draco.

“In the shack?”

“Maybe back at Hogwarts. Maybe, you know, the Room of Requirement.”

Draco chuckled. He kissed Harry’s forehead again.

“I really hope more than one group of people can get in there at once,” he said. “Could you imagine Nott trying to summon an army of Death Eaters and a meter away is the chosen one getting done?”

“You have just changed my mind,” Harry said, but he still kissed Draco.

It seemed like an effort to get back to Hogwarts because of the kissing. It suddenly felt like he couldn’t go more than five paces without kissing Draco. Or without Draco kissing him. Maybe they should have gone with their original plan after all.

And then, just as it was mid-afternoon and Harry was wondering how they were going to get through the castle without drawing any attention to themselves, Ron appeared at the end of the passage. A stony faced Ron. An angry Ron. That made Harry’s insides turn to jelly.

“What’s up?” he asked as he climbed out of the passageway. It was an awkward movement, because Draco still had hold of his hand and there was no way he was going to drop it.

“Ginny’s done something really stupid. And I know you probably didn’t really cause it, but I’m finding it really hard not to blame you,” Ron said.

“What?” that was the only word he could think of. Every sentence he tried to form started with ‘what?’

“That bloody Half-Blood Prince of yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N): Okay so super quick because I have to get ready for work - I'm sorry this is late. I've kind of lost enthusiasm or control or something because it never feels like much happens in any chapter. But hopefully I'm snowballing towards some kind of conclusion and hopefully it's all still working and stuff.  
> I don't know.  
> Hopefully this is good.  
> Thanks so much again and again for sticking with me, love you all and aiming for an update on friday x


	16. 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (A/N): So there wasn't an update last week...  
> Basically, I had to clean up some work to apply for a scholarship and write personal statements and summaries and on paper it wasn't a lot of words but it took a long time. Then I was spending time with family and I just decided to take a week.
> 
> Because I also have to write 2000 words of my own stuff for friday to hand in to my tutor...and I've only got about 100.
> 
> So next week's update may be delayed as well, just because I have 2 other classes with assignments, my webcomic (which I haven't mentioned in a while, so here are some links (My Webcomic: www.webtoons.com/en/challenge/in-his-shadow/list?title_no=226226 (Webtoons)  
> tapas.io/series/In-His-Shadow (Tapastic)) and work and then I need to socialise with the humans I live with.
> 
> But thank you so incredibly much for being so patient and for not demanding the next chapter.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this one!
> 
> I shall see you either next friday or the friday after. x

16

For the last two minutes, Harry had been debating making the joke in his head. He knew it was completely inappropriate and that he’d probably be slapped by Draco if he did say it. But that was how he coped – maybe it was because of all of the life and death situations he’d been in – but he generally faced danger with humour now. It made everything feel a little lighter and sometimes it made him feel a little bit cool. Whenever he said a particularly witty line, he felt like the protagonist in one of Dudley’s video games.

The temptation was there now, poking at the side of his head like a devil on his shoulder.

“He’s even paler than I am,” Draco said.

Harry snorted and attempted to cover his snicker with his hand. He ended up buried into Draco’s shoulder, coughing to cover it up.

“I thought you’d murder me if I said that,” he whispered. Ron was scowling at him from across the hospital bed.

Draco’s hand found his and squeezed him tightly. Suddenly the half smile was gone from his face. Suddenly his jaw was set and there was a dark look in his eye.

“Weasley beat me to the murder today.”

“Could you not?” Ron snapped. “He’s fine, alright? Madame Pomfrey said – he’s fine.”

Madame Pomfrey may have said it and generally she was right about everything, but Harry was having a hard time believing it. The boy in the hospital bed had skin the colour of ivory, shining with sweat as his chest heaved heavily up and down like it was an effort to breathe. His dark hair clung to his forehead in strands, damp and shining with the sweat. The covers were tucked up to his neck but Ron had already said that he looked ‘like a mummy,’ he was so covered in bandages.

But, according to Madame Pomfrey, he was fine.

“So, what happened?” Harry asked, trying to school his expression. He couldn’t cope with it – it was all too serious and Ron was yelling at him and it just made him want to laugh.

“I don’t bloody know, do I? Ginny’s just sat in the common room in tears and she won’t tell me anything! She pointed her wand at me and then just started crying _again_!”

“You should probably comfort her,” Harry said. He couldn’t tell if he was gripping Draco’s hand so tightly, or if Draco was gripping him that tightly. “She is your sister.”

“I love her and would do anything for her, Harry, but I’d never comfort her when she’s rage-crying.”

“But you know what happened – that it was something to do with the Half-Blood Prince.”

“Yeah – she managed to point to one of the bloody fucking spells. I’ve never seen Ginny _shaking_ about a _spell_ before. Just what the hell was in that book, Harry?”

And Harry knew what spell Ron was talking about. He knew that it was the spell he had been ready to use on Blaise Zabini – the one he almost _had_ used. In his mind’s eye, he could see the word in that scraggly handwriting.

_Sectumsempra._

“What did it do to him?” Harry whispered. That could have been him – in that hospital bed – that could have been Blaise if Draco hadn’t stopped him. He could have been the one responsible for this.

“I don’t _know_ – blood – a lot of blood.” Ron ran a hand through his hair. He shuffled his chair closer to the bed. “ _Blood_ – Harry. Like, this did actual, physical damage. It wasn’t some hex or curse – this _cut_ him. Like a knife, like a chainsaw.”

Chainsaw. The image stuck in Harry’s mind and he shivered.

“I don’t understand,” Draco said with gritted teeth. “I don’t understand why your sister would do this to Theo.”

“It wasn’t meant to be. I don’t think – he – he got in the way. I’m pretty sure she was aiming for Zabini and I’m pretty sure he would have deserved it.” Ron pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes. “Okay – maybe – you’d be hard pressed to find someone who deserved this – but – Ginny’s had to put up with a lot of shit this year and She just snapped. It wouldn’t have been this bad if Harry wasn’t so bloody obsessed with that stupid book though!”

“So it’s my fault that you’re sister hexed someone because it was worse than her normal hexes?”

“Yeah, basically.”

“She would have gotten into trouble no matter what spell she used, Ron!”

“I don’t care! Hermione told you to get rid of the book – I told you to get rid of the book – are you going to get rid of it _now_? Now that Nott almost died because of you?”

A chill ran down Harry’s spine. He couldn’t even begin to form words after that. He just stood there, staring at Ron.

Draco gave a shaky exhale next to him. He squeezed Harry’s hand but received no response. So he stepped in front of him, taking his face in his hands.

“You need to go to Weasley,” he said. “I’ll stay here and make sure Theo’s okay.”

Harry nodded, feeling as though he was disconnected from the rest of his body. Draco nodded back, his eyes boring into Harry’s – he kissed him, quickly because they were in public but enough to make his mouth tingle. Enough to bring feeling back to him.

“Okay,” he whispered, and headed from the hospital wing still in a daze.

Ron didn’t mean it. The thought only kicked into his brain as he was walking up the stairs. Ron didn’t mean what he said – Harry knew that it had just been anger and fear and that he probably would have said the same thing out of sheer panic.

But that didn’t make it any less true.

It was Harry’s fault. It was Harry’s fault for getting so obsessed with the damn thing. It was his fault for leaving it lying around somewhere.

Only he hadn’t. It had been at the bottom of his trunk.

Which meant that someone had moved it.

Did that still make it his fault?

Did it even matter? He was tired of pointing the finger to one person or the other. It happened. Ginny had cast sectumsempra and Nott had been caught in the crossfire.

Now he had to do damage control. The Common Room was as full as it always was, but the chatter sounded too loud. There was an artificiality in everyone’s laughs – like they were making up for something.

Harry supposed the something they were making up for was the Ginny sat by the window. She had her elbows on the huge stone windowsill, her face so close to the window that Harry thought she was going to fall out of it.

He nudged her shoulder with his knuckles.

Ginny brushed a curtain of auburn hair out of her face and looked up at him with equally red eyes.

“I fucked up,” she whispered. “Harry, I. _Fucked_. Up.”

Harry found himself half-smiling. There was no reason too – not when she looked so drained and scared and small. But she looked a lot like he did last year. He recognised that look from the mirror.

“Yeah,” he said, because he wasn’t going to _lie_. After everything Dumbledore had said – or not said – he wasn’t about to start lying. “Well, lucky for you, I fuck up a lot. And I know that the best place to go is somewhere quiet. Walk with me?”

He offered her his arm and Ginny smiled. It looked like it was despite herself because in the next moment she was closing her eyes and giving a shaky, not-quite laugh. Then she stood, and slipped an arm around Harry’s arm. She was squeezing him, so much that it actually hurt, but there was no way that Harry was going to tell her that.

“This,” Ginny whispered. She pulled the tattered old potions book out of her robe. It looked pathetic – just floppy, yellowed pieces of paper bound by crumbling leather. And yet it had done so much damage.

“Let’s get rid of it,” Harry said. He tucked it into his own rooms. “We’ll put it somewhere safe, yeah.”

“Wasn’t it your key to getting an ‘O’ in your potions NEWT?” Ginny asked. Her voice was cracked, but she was trying to smile bravely. That was another look that Harry knew all too well. It was the kind of look that if you asked ‘are you okay?’ to would crack completely.

“I’ve memorised the whole thing by now,” Harry said and got to hear that breathy laugh again.

They crawled through the passageway and Ginny leant against Harry again, without any hesitation. The corridor was quiet, and they stayed silent until they reached the end of it. Then Ginny sighed. She leant her forehead against Harry’s shoulder and groaned.

“You know how last year you would blow up at everything?” she asked. “I get it now. I get how you felt.”

Harry faked a gasp. “You have Voldemort in your head too?”

Ginny chose to ignore the joke. “I don’t think it has anything to do with Voldemort. I think it’s just growing up. It’s what happens when people like us grow up.”

“People like us?”

“Hotheads.”

“Oh, right. Not gays.”

“I’m so happy that I am.” Ginny looked up then, her dark brown eyes almost desperate as they searched his face. Looking for similarity. “I’m _so_ much happier and I love knowing that – that I am. You know?”

Harry nodded. Then he frowned. Because he did – a part of him did.

They had stopped bang in the middle of the hallway. Just stood there having a conversation about sexuality – and that wasn’t the most absurd thing that had happened to Harry today.

“Kind of,” he ended up saying. His voice sounded low – tired – like he didn’t have the energy to get the words out right, no matter how important they were. “I guess – I never really came out, as what I am. I don’t feel like anyone quite – like anyone thinks quite right about me.”

“Then do it. Come out for a second time.”

Harry paused. He took a breath.

“Hi Ginny, I’m bisexual.”

“Hi bisexual, I’m gay.” Ginny held out a hand and he shook it without thinking. They didn’t laugh, exactly, because there was still too heavy a cloud hanging over them for that. But they did smile.

Something was definitely lifted from Harry’s shoulders as he said it. Ginny was right – something clicked – something felt right about introducing himself like that.

Then the storm clouds returned. Ginny had almost killed a boy because of the book in Harry’s robes.

Where did you even hide a book like that?               

The Room of Requirement? Then only when someone needed it they would be able to access it. But Harry had found that room of junk before – he could have taken anything from that room. It was too dangerous.

And that was how Harry and Ginny tossed the Half-Blood Prince’s potions book down the sink of the girl’s bathroom. It clunked and fluttered on its way down to the Chamber of Secrets.

“Where evil books go to die,” Ginny said, solemnly as they stared into the black void left by the sink.

Harry nodded. He placed a hand on Ginny’s shoulder and she rested her head on him again.

“I didn’t want to hit Nott – just – I had to do something. I had to prove to Luna that if you stand up to these jerks, then they’ll stop. I didn’t really prove anything, did I?”

“If Luna doesn’t appreciate that you are fierce and powerful, then maybe she doesn’t deserve you,” Harry said.

“If I wanted sage advice I would have gone to Draco,” Ginny muttered. “Besides, you’re forgetting one very important thing. I _love_ her.”

“You’ve got me there.” Harry said.

He knew he should be worried about other things. He should be worried about whether Ginny was going to get _expelled_. But with the way things were going, it didn’t seem likely they’d even make the next school year.

So really, the statement ‘I love her,’ was the most important thing right now.

And he just hoped that Luna would realise that too.

*

“Snape was the one who found him. He said that he’d personally oversee Weasley’s detention, but he’s not going to mention it to Dumbledore.” Draco was sat behind Harry, his mouth on his bare shoulder because somehow he had gotten half of the buttons on Harry’s shirt undone and his fingers hooked into the belt loops of Harry’s jeans.

“Babe.” Harry ran his hand through Draco’s hair. His eyes had been half-closed right up until Draco had said Snape’s name. Now he stared out at Hogsmede below them. “I really don’t want Snape’s face in my mind right now.”

“Don’t call me babe.” Draco scrunched his nose up and Harry laughed. “It’s just so-“

“Too common for you, my darling?” Harry put on a matching voice and received a shove in the back. He let himself fall, rolling so that he was looking up at Draco. His laugh filtered out as he lost himself in those features again. Those steely grey eyes and thin eyebrow raised at him. How had he ever hated Draco? He was sure, now, that part of the reason he had hated him was because of how damn pretty he was. He had no right to be that pretty.

“You’re doing it again,” Draco said.

“Hm?”

“Looking at me like I’m your whole world.” Draco lay with him, resting himself on one elbow so that he was over Harry. He reached up and kissed him, wondering if he would ever get bored of the taste of his lips.

“What a wonderful world that would be.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“We’ve already established that.”

Draco laughed, then let himself fall so that his weight was on Harry, kissing him as though they were connected by magnets. His leg was in between Harry’s and suddenly he was very aware of it. He slipped his hands under the hem of Draco’s shirt, his fingertips touching him just enough to make him shiver.

“Anyway – listen because this is important.”

“Mm?” Harry caught Draco’s lip in his teeth – just for a moment, because then he could grin innocently up at him.

“Snape didn’t want to get a Gryffindor in trouble and he’s tried to expel you for less.” Draco said. He tapped Harry’s cheek with his finger. “Guilt. He knows it could come back to him.”

“I think you’re reaching,” Harry said. “Snape was trying to get us in trouble just for being us.”

“Exactly. That’s why I’m saying it’s weird.”

“But guilt?” The sun was behind Draco and it was blinding him. He closed his eyes, wanting to focus on Draco’s voice. “Why would he be guilty?”

There was a pause.

“Because I remember where I’ve seen that handwriting before.”

Then it clicked. It clicked so quickly that Harry bolted upright – only to make it five centimetres before his forehead slammed into Draco’s. He cried out – Draco cried out – they both struggled to sit up to sit. Harry rubbed his head, frowning down at the grass underneath them. It felt as though there was a weight on his chest with the revelation.

“So? So Snape-“

“It makes sense.”

Harry shook his head. It didn’t, it didn’t make sense. None of it made sense.

He was pressed into Draco’s shoulder, and he stayed there, still frowning. It felt like his head was spinning. Snape – the half-blood Prince – who had been helping Harry all year without knowing it. Snape who was better at potions than _anyone_ else apparently, but didn’t do anything with that information.

Snape who had made the spell that his own father had used against him.

He hadn’t thought of James Potter for a while. Now his father’s face flashed in his memory – grinning as he held up a wand. He hated that image. He hated remembering what James and Sirius had been like – and that Lupin had just stood by.

And yet – remembering it there was a horrible, sinking feeling of disappointment that came with remembering it now.

Because that had been the Prince’s spell.

And he knew that his father wasn’t the Prince – mostly because he knew James Potter was as bad at potions as he was, but also because he was a pureblood. But somehow, he had thought that he might have known the Prince somehow. That maybe Lupin had something to do with it – because he must have been friends with the Prince if he had known that spell.

But he hadn’t. It had been Snape’s.

The Prince wasn’t anyone that cared about Harry. It had been pure chance. Not even fate really, Ron could just as well have been helped by Snape. It wouldn’t have mattered.

He checked the mirror that evening, sitting under his duvet with his wand lit.

“Harry.”

“Snape made spells up,” Harry said. “My dad used one of his spells.”

Sirius half-smiled, sighing slightly as he leant back. Grimmauld Place looked dark behind him.

“It’s nice to talk to you too.”

“You said the mirror was only for emergencies. This is an emergency.”

But Sirius was still smiling. His eyes sparkled.

“I know. I meant it, though – I like to see you. When you smile like that, you look just like-“

“My dad?”

“Just like him,” Sirius said, his voice barely more than a whisper. The soft look in his eyes made Harry’s chest burn with pride. Pride and a little guilt. “Even sat under the covers like that – he’d do that if I was stuck in a late detention.”

“You always seemed to be in detention, Sirius.”

“Oh, like you’re never in trouble, Mr Potter.”

“I’m busy saving the school!”

Sirius rolled his eyes, but he was laughing.

“Well then, school hero, what spell are you on about?”

“Levicorpus. That was Snape’s wasn’t it?”

Sirius paused, then frowned for a moment.

“I don’t know,” he said after a while. “Everyone just started using it one day.” He caught the look on Harry’s face. “Yeah, it wasn’t just James. It was the popular thing for a while.”

“But still,” Harry said. “I bet Lupin wasn’t doing it. Or my mum.”

“Is still bothers you, doesn’t it?” Sirius’ smile was almost wistful. That sent a tinge of worry through Harry – did he _miss_ it? But then common sense kicked in – of course those were better days – those were the pre-Azkaban days. “Look at it like this, Harry – your dad may have been a questionable teenager but he grew into a good man. Even if Snape _was_ decent at school – and he was just as insufferable as James, I may add – he’s hardly a good man now. Even if Dumbledore _says_ he’s on our side – who’s really to tell?”

“Dumbledore wouldn’t let him teach if he was a Death Eater,” Harry said, but he hardly convinced himself. He had no idea what kind of a man Dumbledore _was_ anymore.

“Just stay safe, Harry. That’s all I ask.”

“You too, Sirius.”

Something still wasn’t sitting right. It felt like he’d wasted an absurd amount of time on the Half Blood Prince and now he had lost it all. The book was gone, the Prince was just Snape – none of it had _meant_ anything at all.

Though it did make sense. Only Snape could have thought of a spell like _sectumsempra._ Harry supposed he was glad that the Prince had never used that spell himself.

And at least his dad hadn’t been the one to think of it. Maybe it was better this way.

There was a voice calling him from above his sheets as the image in the mirror faded away. He found Ron standing at the end of his bed, scratching the back of his neck.

“Thanks for – going to Ginny.” He said.

“No problem.”

“I just-“ Ron sighed and sat on the end of Harry’s bed, his back to him. “Why’s it so difficult to talk to her now?”

“There’s always going to be some things you can’t understand, Ron,” Harry wasn’t sure how he knew that, or how he was getting so good at giving advice. Maybe Draco was rubbing off on him. “But she knows you’re there for her.”

There was something else. The back of Ron’s neck was red and Harry suspected that he was blushing. He waited.

“How did you know? What your feelings were?”

“I didn’t.”

Ron laughed, glancing back at Harry to see if he was joking. He raised his hands in defeat.

“It just hit me over the head.”

That made Ron’s face darken. He frowned, then nodded slowly.

“Right.”

“What’s brought this on?”

“Just – thinking.” His frown deepened. “My best friend was in love with his worst enemy and I had no idea. I had no idea about Ginny. I’m completely useless.”

“Hey, no – that’s – that’s my line. I’m the useless one.”

They laughed and for a moment it was just like it had always been. Harry and Ron – sharing a joke.

But then the worry returned. They al seemed to have the same silent conversation now – ‘I’m worried/me too.’ There was nothing more to add to it.

It was almost the end of the year, Harry noted. And the end of the year was where things usually went wrong.

*

Harry was starting to think that he had made up his whole connection to Voldemort. The creature of anger that had lived inside his belly was as alive and well as it had always been. The desire to turn into a snake and bite people was still there – it was there now as he looked at Dumbledore.

He supposed, if it was really Voldemort, it wouldn’t have been that hard a task for him after all.

“Professor, you’re not listening to me.” He tried again, though he could sense Dumbledore’s patience was wearing thin.

“I have listened to you Harry. But the castle is well-defended and your theories are all speculation.” Dumbledore was peering over his half-moon spectacles at him. “I’m afraid that this horcrux business is urgent. I’m asking you to help me in this. It will be the last thing I ask of you.”

“Apart from defeating Voldemort?”

“Apart from that.”

The idea was tempting. To not spend his final year getting pounced on to do this and find that and be this. To sit back and let the adults fight the war then come in to finish it off. After all, hadn’t he done his fair share of fighting?

“But Trelawny heard someone celebrating – I’m sure that they’ve perfected the vanishing cabinet-“ Harry trailed off.

“I shall inform Professor McGonagall.”

Which sounded like a ‘yes, I’ve scared the monsters under the bed away’ solution to Harry, but he knew it would be the best that he would get.

He was torn – part of him knew that he needed to go. That this was important and this could save people’s lives if they destroyed this horcrux. This could be the beginning of the end.

But Hogwarts was his home. Hogwarts was full of people that he cared about and how could he just walk away and leave them?

How could he leave Draco?

Draco, who had simply said ‘don’t send me away,’ with his face close enough to Harry’s that his breath was puffs of warm air on his cheeks. Draco looking up at him in the morning light with such a look of fear. ‘Don’t leave me because I have no one else.’ Harry’s heart lurched with the realisation. There was no one left.

“Can I bring a friend?” he asked, before he had even thought this through. His throat was dry and he couldn’t look at Dumbledore for fear – that he’d say no, that he’d guess what Harry was thinking – for any number of reasons.

“This isn’t a field trip, Harry.”

“I made a promise. That I wouldn’t leave him.”

“I’m sure for one night-“

“Not this night.” Harry gritted his teeth – prepared himself to dig his heels in like a stubborn ox on this one. “If I’m wrong, then I’m wrong and I won’t ever ask again. You can say no next time, but this time – just give me this time.”

Dumbledore was still looking at him silently, his hands clasped on the desk before him. The sleeve of his robe had fallen down – Harry could see the withered hand that churned his stomach. He couldn’t read that expression and could predict the gentle ‘no’ that he was about to receive. He tried something different.

“Haven’t you ever made someone that promise?” He could hardly recognise his own voice. It sounded like someone much stronger, much more powerful than Harry was speaking.

For a moment, he thought he was just pleading with the void. That Dumbledore was not about to budge anytime soon.

But then he gave a long, slow sigh through his nose and stood.

“Both of you had better be very, very careful.”

Harry froze. For a moment, he was sure that someone had cast _petrificus totalus_ on him.

Then the relief washed through him like a sun bath. He had the urge to laugh out loud.

But time was of the essence and he didn’t want to push his luck, so he gabbled ‘thank you’ and stood stiffly. It felt like someone else was pulling the strings whilst his mind was away – his mind was on Draco – all he could do was gabble ‘thank you.’ He just kept saying it – all the way out of Dumbledore’s office and all the way down his staircase.

He wasn’t sure if this was the best decision. Last time he had been worried and taken Draco with him, Mr Weasley had ended up dead and Draco a werewolf. Last time had been a disaster.

Well, at least Draco couldn’t become a werewolf twice. At least Harry would be at his side. And Harry knew – something deep inside him just _knew_ – that he would defend Draco until his final breath. If he died tonight, it would be because he couldn’t allow anything to happen to him. Not this year.

And what about the others? As Harry raced to the Common Room for his invisibility cloak – his mind ringing out for Draco – hoping that he was still something of an occlumens because he had hardly been practising all year – he wondered just how many people would fit under it. If this would be the kind of mission where he could take along a hidden Ron, Hermione and Ginny with him. He couldn’t leave them here either.

The castle had to be defended.

They were all good with their wands.

He hated asking it, but – “you have to stay and protect everyone. The DA is the only group of students who will be able to stand up to the Death Eaters – use the coins to get everyone together.”

“Harry, you’re hardly making any sense,” Hermione said. She put a hand on his shoulder to stop his erratic searching.

“I know, I know – but please, Hermione? This is the rest of the liquid luck – if Dumbledore’s right – if – if nothing happens then at least you’ll have a good night. Better night than me, at least.”

He draped the invisibility cloak over his arm, panting as he stood and looked at her and Ginny and Ron. This was his team. He felt like the commanding officer of an army. He hated it.

He hated it, but he believed in them.

“Be careful, all of you.”

“Speak for yourself,” Ginny gave his shoulder a light punch. Trying to keep everything a joke.

Ron hugged him – hard, and Hermione kissed his cheek.

And then he was back down the corridor – his mind screaming Draco’s name again.

Either Draco was psychic, Harry was a decent occlumens, or it was just pure luck, but there he was by the staircase. Harry barrelled into him with so much force that they almost went flying.

“What’s wrong?” Draco asked into his shoulder, his mouth completely muffled by Harry’s clothes.

“Dumbledore. I have to go with Dumbledore.” He stared at the invisibility cloak in his hands – it shined iridescent like a hummingbird.

“No – no, Potter-“

“You can come too,” he pulled away, catching Draco’s shoulders in his hands. He was staring at Harry like he’d just been slapped around the face. “I pushed Dumbledore – you can come – if you want?”

Draco recovered remarkably quickly – he always did and Harry loved him _so_ much for that. Because in the next moment Draco was smirking and asking “well, what else was I going to do tonight?”

Harry grinned. His heart was hammering. He was shaking. He was terrified – completely terrified but at least they were together. At least Hermione would have Ron and Ron would have Ginny and Ginny would have Neville and so on. They all had each other.

They weren’t going to lose.

Harry promised it to himself as he took Draco’s hand, clutching it so hard that his knuckles were white.

This wasn’t going to be like last year. No way.


	17. 17

17

Harry hadn’t thought that anything would be more awkward than standing on the edge of a cliff face with his boyfriend’s hand clutched tightly in one of his own and his headmaster on his other side.

But that had been a whole two hours ago and now he was wishing for that awkwardness. At least the silence that had been ringing in his ears was better than hearing Dumbledore’s laboured breath in his ear as they stumbled down Hogsmede highstreet. And _anything_ would be better than Draco’s sarcastic voice on his other side.

“You should have left him there.”

“I couldn’t do that.” Harry said. He didn’t want to point out that Dumbledore had enough of his senses to understand their conversation.

“He would have left one of us.” Draco wasn’t making a move to help. He was still gripping his wand in his hand and he was gritting his jaw. Harry could hear his teeth chatter together when he spoke.

And he knew what he meant. Dumbledore wouldn’t have left Harry – not Harry and not without returning immediately with help.

But Draco wasn’t the chosen one.

“Babe, I love you – but shut up.” Harry managed to pant out. He was shaking – every part of him was still shaking, and he wanted to scream. He wanted to scream at Draco for being so sarcastic and unhelpful and _himself_ right now. He wanted to scream at Dumbledore to just _try a bit harder._ They were never going to get to Hogwarts at this rate – and all of his instincts told him that getting Snape was a bad idea. Snape was the half-blood Prince. He was a Death Eater, he couldn’t be trusted.

Draco snorted. “’babe’ and ‘shut up’ in one sentence. You really are stressed.”

“How are you not?” Harry yelled.

That was when Madame Rosmerta appeared, wrapping a silk nightgown around her. Her blonde hair flew out in curls around her face, making her look like a rich, nineteenth century wife finding out her husband had been tragically murdered.

“Are you alright – are you – what happened? Are you okay, Harry – Draco – Albus!”

“He’s hurt – can you – can he stay at the Three Broomsticks whilst we go up to the school and get help-“

“You can’t!” she said it so suddenly and in such a panic that they stopped dead, staring at her. “Don’t you – don’t you know what’s happened?”

Harry’s stomach dropped like a stone. Like a stone tied to an anvil. Like a stone tied to an anvil tied to an anchor. He heard Dumbledore’s voice – Dumbledore asking what had happened in a calm, clear voice. That voice used to be so soothing.

He caught sight of the Dark Mark just before Rosmerta said it. His sunken stomach did an almighty backflip and he felt bile rise in the back of his throat. He had been right. Something was happening tonight and it was something _unthinkable_.

Draco’s hand tightened on his arm – gripping him tightly enough that it hurt, but Harry could barely feel the pain. He couldn’t feel the pain of Dumbledore grasping his shoulder to pull himself to his feet. But he could hear his breath – sharp and ragged in his ears. They were there – they were there – they were at Hogwarts and they had left a Dark Mark and that meant they had murdered someone. Someone at Hogwarts was dead.

He’d left his friends there on the one night of the year where someone died at Hogwarts.

Why had he done that?

“We need transport to Hogwarts at once.” That was Dumbledore – taking this situation in his stride. Harry couldn’t. He had thought that being in life and death situations was becoming normal now. He supposed it was, when he didn’t have his boyfriend, the son of a Death Eater, standing right next to him.

“I’ve got a couple of brooms behind the bar-“

“Stay here.” Harry turned to Draco.

“No.” His face was set with determination, even if he was paler than a ghost and had a trickle of blood running down the side of his face.

“Draco, listen to me for once – stay with Madame Rosmerta-“

“Not whilst you go off and do something stupid.”

“There are _Death Eaters_ in the castle-“ Harry didn’t want to say it – he hoped that Draco would pick up on what he was implying.

 _Your father could be in there_.

But Dumbledore, and in that moment, bless the man, cut him off.

“Harry, could you get Rosmerta’s broomsticks? There’s no time to lose.”

So he did, cutting off his argument to _accio_ the two broomsticks from behind the bar.

“Two.” He said, pointedly looking at Draco as he took hold of one.

Draco placed his hand on the broom above Harry’s, stepping forward so that they wouldn’t be heard.

“Harry, when have I ever done anything you told me to do?” he asked. “Now get on the back of the broom.”

He opened his mouth to object – to _insist_ upon that no.

But Draco had a split lip and his gaze had been drawn to it as he had spoken. Spoken in a low, authoritive tone that made Harry’s stomach backflip for a _good_ reason.

So he had gotten on the back of the broom.

At least, he supposed, Dumbledore looked more alive now. The Dark Mark had been like a good cup of coffee – it had brought his focus back and he looked more like the man Harry had looked up to for so long.

He would sort it, Harry told himself. Dumbledore would make everything okay, because, despite his faults, that was what Dumbeldore did.

The roof of the castle was completely deserted and there wasn’t a sound to be heard. That worried Harry. Like whatever had happened had already come and gone.

“The stay under the invisibility cloak, do you understand?” Dumbledore said.

Harry obeyed without even thinking about it. He had agreed to after all.

“But, Professor – what about-“

“Go and fetch Severus. Tell him what happened.”

“But-“

He was faced with a simultaneous “ _go_ ,” and a “come _on,_ Potter,” from either side of him.

That was the first time Draco and Dumbledore had agreed on anything, Harry realised. He thought it was best not to point this out at that moment.

Particularly because he heard footsteps on the other side of the door.

He reached for his wand and as he did so, he his body froze completely. Not with fear – physically froze – he was unable to move an he fell against the wall.

_“Expelliarmus!”_

Draco wasn’t under the invisibility cloak, he realised. He was standing with his wand pointed at the open door with Dumbledore standing quite calmly behind him, even though his wand had just gone scattering across the stone of the roof.

“You’re really going to point a wand at me, Malfoy?”

It was a familiar voice and a familiar figure who stepped into the light of the moon. Blaise Zabini, with a grim expression on his face. The shadows in his face seemed pitch black, making him look like a monster from a black and white horror film.

“You pointed yours at me first,” Malfoy said. He seemed completely calm – eerily calm, Harry realised.

“I have a job to do. And you’re in my way.”

“He does, Mr Malfoy. You must step aside now.”

“Potter was the one who agreed to do what you told him,” Draco said over his shoulder, and despite the feeling of utter dread in every inch of his body, Harry could have laughed.

“You know?” Blaise’s eyebrows rose – lifting the dark from his face for just a moment. It was in that moment that Harry could see – he was terrified.

“Dear boy, of course I know.” Dumbledore sounded tired, then. He sounded tired to the bone. “You have all been trying and yet every attempt feels somewhat half-hearted. Both of your fellow students survived your attacks, after all.”

Blaise laughed  - a high pitched, unhinged laugh that sent a shiver through Harry.

“And what about now?” he asked. “You have no wand and the rest of the Death Eaters will be up here in a moment. All you have is this half-breed.”

A light flashed from Draco’s wand – Blaise knocked it Harry.

Harry knew that Blaise couldn’t see him, and that was why he was excluded from Dumbledore’s assets, but it made him feel more useless than ever. He couldn’t move an inch.

“Come on, Malfoy – don’t be stupid!” Blaise spat and his eyes looked wild. “The Dark Lord only showed you where your loyalties _should_ lie – he didn’t say that he would never forgive you. He doesn’t hate werewolves, they’re useful to him.” Harry could see Draco’s wand beginning to waver. He wanted to scream. “If you do this – if you _help_ us – he’d welcome you back with open arms. He’d be _proud_ of you. Your father would be proud of you.”

Draco was very still, his wand already half-lowered. He couldn’t be thinking about it. Harry was sure that he couldn’t be thinking about it. A slow smile spread across Draco’s face – he was ghostly white in the night and looked almost as terrifying as Blaise.

“The thing is, Zabini, my father’s approval means fuck all.” Then he moved fast – faster than Harry could see – red light bursting from his wand as he yelled, “ _stupefy!”_

Blaise barely had time to get out of the way – and the stone where his ear had been moments before burst into dust. His face hardened, and the duel began. Red and green and blue lit up the night in a deadly fireworks display as Draco and Blaise exchanged spells, causing dust to crumble down from the surrounding brickwork like confetti.

Draco’s face was set and his movements were precise and determined. It was like he was dancing, Harry realised. The way he moved was beautiful – he was stunning in the light of his own spells, even with the scratches on his face. Harry knew that was not what he should be focusing on. He should have been focusing on the fact that Dumbledore was starting to slip down the wall as more and more time went on.  He should have been focusing on the noise from downstairs – how the voices sounded louder and it either meant that his friends had failed, or that Death Eaters were indeed on their way up.

He should have been focusing on trying to move a muscle and trying to help.

But something about the situation was horribly similar. Something about duelling for his life and turning and seeing –

– Falling through the veil.

The memory petrified him more than any spell.

They were talking – Harry realised. Dumbledore in a gentle, probing voice, revealing more and more of Blaise’s plan. The vanishing cabinets. A path between Hogwarts and Nocturne Alley.

Draco was tiring. He had already thought off Inferi this evening and it was a struggle to conjure more spells. Blaise’s latest singed his hair as he ducked out of the way.

It was at that moment that there was more voices – that there were more figures out on the roof. Figures that laughed as they saw Draco standing there in ripped uniform, panting from the effort of the battle.

“This is Dumby’s last line of defence!” a lumpy Death Eater cackled. “The Malfoy boy!”

“The blood traitor!” an unhinged woman cried. “Come on, Zabini – you can take him – then Dumbledore is yours.”

“I shouldn’t have to take him,” Blaise said. He was breathing heavily too, and Harry noticed that his wand was shaking. “Malfoy – Draco – stand aside. _Please._ ”

“I can’t do that, Blaise.” Draco’s voice was soft. They were both speaking in low tones – pleading tones. “I can’t let you kill a man.”

“You hate him as much as I do.”

“I do.”

“If you were ever my friend you’d stand aside.”

There was something in Blaise’s voice. His wand was shaking as he pointed it at Draco, and there was an expression of pain on his face. On Draco’s too, Harry realised as he looked at him. He looked heartbroken.

“Oh, enough of the touchy-feely, it’s making me sick,” the lumpy Death Eater groaned. “Do it – kill them both!”

Blaise did not move.

Neither did Draco.

But that might have been because of the latest figure stepping onto the astronomy tower. The huge, lurking shadow with matted hair and yellowed nails. His teeth were yellow too, and glinted as he sneered, a throaty chuckle coming from somewhere within him.

“Well, look who it is.” His voice was more like the rasping bark of an old dog than a human’s and it set Harry’s teeth on edge. “My little friend.”

Harry did not need Dumbledore to say, “ah, Fenrir,” to know who this man was. He could tell by the look of absolute horror on Draco’s face. He could tell by the way he had frozen completely, like a rabbit staring up at a fox.

“And Dumbledore.” The man turned yellow eyes onto him. He looked more frail than ever as he leant against the wall. “Are the two of you pleased to see me?”

“I’m afraid I cannot say so,” Dumbledore said and Harry remembered just a little of why he had looked up to this man. He was staring down a monster, yet he was speaking as though an uninvited guest had showed up at dinner. As frustrating as he was, Dumbledore had style.

“But you know how much I _love_ children – and if I knew that my favourite toy was here – well, then-“ he grinned and Harry felt his heart shatter into pieces at the look on Draco’s face. At the way his chest had stopped moving.

“And you have taken to attacking even when it is not the full moon.”

“Does it shock you, Dumbledore? Does it terrify you?” He was enjoying this, Harry realised. But he couldn’t bring himself to focus on the conversation – all he wanted was to run. To run straight over to Draco and stand in front of him and unleash hell with his wand. The fire was back in his stomach – a howling, angry beast was roaring inside him and he had finally found the right time to let it out.

“I cannot say I am not disgusted, but you have found continual ways to disgust me, Fenrir.”

His eyes flickered, just the slightest amount to Draco, and as Fenrir continued to babble about children and throats and all manner of disturbing things, Harry heard Blaise whisper, “I would have hidden you if you had stepped aside, Draco.”

“Enough!” the woman was snarling again, her face transformed into a Halloween mask with her mouth stretched and her brow warped. “We’ve got orders – get to it, Blaise. You’ve got to do this!”

“Draco’s in the way!” Blaise yelled, with an air of desperation in his voice. It was an excuse – Harry realised – Draco had not moved a muscle since Fenrir had appeared. He stared at the werewolf and he sneered back.

“He’s not long for this world, anyway!” the lumpy man burst into a fit of wheezing giggles.

There was too much noise – Dumbledore’s calm voice explaining that it was old age juxtaposed with the cries of “do it,” and the yells of “get out the way, Draco, please!” And under that “ _they’ve blocked the stairs! Reducto!”_ that sounded an awful lot like friendly voices – as if Dumbledore’s army or the Order of the Phoenix were on their way.

Harry could twitch now – he had been straining against the spell for so long and it was finally starting to give way. Just a moment longer and he would be free. Just a little longer and the Order would be here and Harry could join the fight.

Time seemed to switch to triple speed in the next few moments.

The witch was screaming “ _this_ is how you deal with him – _crucio_!” even before the light was bursting from his wand.

The light hit Draco’s chest. He fell. He might have screamed but Harry could not hear anything. There was a roar in his ears – it might have been coming from him – as he broke away from the wall. The invisibility cloak fluttered off of him like a second skin.

Snape appeared on the balcony as Harry screamed “ _sectumsempra_!” at the witch – he was already halfway to Draco. He was writhing on the ground and Harry could _swear_ that he could _feel_ the curse too.

Someone was yelling at Snape that Blaise wouldn’t do it – Dumbledore was simply saying “Please, Severus,” in a pleading voice.

Then a voice cut out across the night. A calm, determined voice.

“ _Avada Kadava.”_

*

Dumbledore was falling. He was falling backwards off of the roof in such a graceful arc that it seemed as though he was flying. As though he had meant to fall all along and was about to swoop upwards.

He had to swoop back upwards.

He had to wave his wand and make the Death Eaters collapse. Or disappear.

Dumbledore had to make things better. He had to make everything alright.

He had to. That was what Dumbledore did. He made everything okay.

But now he was falling.

Now he was dying.

He was already dead, Harry realised. He had been dead the moment the green burst of light had struck him in the chest.

From that moment, hope was lost.

He had fallen to his knees, skidding across the rest of the flagstones until he was next to Draco. The witch’s spell had broken, and he was crouching on the floor, staring across the roof in shock.

“Leave them – get out of here quickly! _Quickly!_ ” Snape’s voice was saying. He sounded very far away.

Harry could hear footsteps, but he couldn’t move – he couldn’t think. He was falling too – he was –

They weren’t alone on the roof.

The smell of blood became overpowering, mixed with sweat and dirt. He forced himself to twist around, to look back at the rest of the castle. To abandon Dumbledore.

The witch was still there, of course, her blood was pooling over the flagstones and she was twitching involuntarily. Something in Harry was horrified at that – he had done that – that was what _sectumsempra_ did.

But Fenrir Greyback was also there, half-bent as he looked at the two of them like a wolf stalking prey. He _was_ a wolf stalking prey.

Harry looked back at him and he hated him. He hated him more than he had ever hated anyone. More than he had ever hated Dumbledore last year and more than he had ever hated the Dursley’s. He was a being of hate and rage.

His wand had made it to his hand – he couldn’t remember how, but now he raised it as if it was an extension of his body.

“ _Petrificus totalus.”_

The werewolf stiffened and collapsed. He fell next to the witch – into the blood that was _still_ coming from her – and would she live? And would Harry care if she didn’t?

“Harry – _Harry_ -“ a voice next to him was saying. A concerned voice – a voice that he loved.

“I’m going to kill him,” Harry said. He felt the words move from his lungs all the way to his heart as he stood.

“No, _mon ange_.” He felt Draco grab his arm, he shook him off, starting across the roof. Now he felt like the wolf.

Draco stepped in front of him then – grabbing his shoulders and digging his feet into the spot so that Harry couldn’t push past him. He tried, his hands taking hold of Draco’s elbows and trying to prise him away – trying to throw him off of him. Draco was talking – still talking – running through every pet name he had for Harry as though one would be the magic word to snap him out of his rage.

It turned out the magic words were just a simple, “ _stop, please.”_

The words had been whispered. Whispered in a cracking voice that had given up hope.

Given up hope.

Harry’s vision seemed to snap back into focus. He saw Draco in front of him – Draco staring up at him with wide, pleading, grey eyes. Desperate eyes. His hands were shaking as they held Harry.

His cheeks were damp. Draco was crying.

He couldn’t remember ever seeing Draco cry. Not tears that streaked down his face and left damp marks that ran over his skin like cracks in pottery.

His hands moved of their own accord, cupping Draco’s cheeks and wiping the tears away with his thumbs. And the next. And the next. Desperately wiping every tear that fell away as though that would fix things.

Someone had to fix things.

That someone was always Dumbledore.

But Dumbledore was dead.

Dumbledore was dead.

And Snape had killed him.

“I have to go,” Harry said. “I have to.”

“We have to leave, Harry – we have to get out of here.”

Draco’s grip relaxed on him, his eyes reading something on Harry’s face.

They crossed the roof together, stepping over the two limp bodies and starting down the stairs. Harry was still full of raging fire. It fuelled him to take each step. If he kept the fire – if he stayed angry – he wouldn’t have to think about why.

He wouldn’t have to think that Dumbledore was dead.

Dumbledore was dead and Snape had killed him.

Downstairs was chaos – Ginny, McGonagall, Lupin, Ron all fighting Death Eaters. All fighting for their lives.

“ _Impedimenta_!” Harry flicked his wand at the one taunting Ginny – at the one forcing her to dodge cruciatus curse after cruciatus curse – as though he was a nuisance.

McGonagall sent a man flying – and if it had been any other night Harry would have been completely in awe of her.

Now he could only hear Neville as he walked past him, writhing on the floor.

“Snape was running – they were running that way.”

So Harry began to run too. He began to run until he spotted the black figure disappearing out of the entrance hall. Blaise Zabini was with him.

His lungs were burning – but then, every part of him was burning.

Hagrid’s hut was burning – and he was bellowing about Fang.

Harry heard another voice as he ran past – Theodore Nott’s voice screaming every water spell under the sun as he disappeared into the flames.

He shot spell after spell at Snape’s back. Each one darted away from him. Snape was sneering at him – yelling at Blaise to go.

Draco was the one who stopped him – who fired “ _engorgio_!” at Blaise’s leg. It started to swell, stopping him in his tracks and forcing him to fight back against Draco.

Harry was barely thinking – he was yelling that Snape was a coward and receiving taunts about his father in return. He couldn’t get a single spell out in this duel before it was blocked.

Blocked, blocked, blocked.

“You forgot to protect your precious Potter!”

The next second was pain. Pain that sent him back to the Graveyard two years ago. Pain that knocked the breath out of his lungs and made that burning feeling _hurt_. This was worse – this was a worse pain – worse than he remembered and worse than he imagined.

Worse because he could hear the anguish and hatred in Draco’s voice as he screamed “ _stupefy! Stupefy! Stupefy!”_

Then the pain was gone. Harry rolled on the grass, trying to orientate himself – trying to find the source of the voice saying “Potter belongs to the Dark Lord! Go! Go!”

He managed to find the dark shadow – finally – managed to scramble to his knees, his hands fumbling in the damp grass for his wand. Draco was there – Draco was ready –

“ _Sectum-“_

“You dare use my own spell against me?!” Snape was livid – as livid as Harry felt. “You, Draco? After everything I’ve done for you, you would use the spells I invented against me – just like Potter’s filthy father?!”

Draco paused – there wasn’t even time to pause, but he did.

“No.” He said, his voice muffled and thick.

“You could have been so much better than this, Draco.”

There was a flash of light – Draco was on the ground and Harry was up – his wand pointed.

Snape was faster than he was. There was a flash against his cheek and he was falling backwards too – pain searing through him – climbing down his side.

His wand was gone. He had dropped it and Snape was above him.

“Kill me then,” he yelled. Roared. It was the only way he could feel something. “Kill me like you killed him, you coward!”

“ _Don’t call me coward!”_

There was white hot flash again and Harry lot his senses. For a moment – there was only black and pain and he was trying to find his limbs. He was trying to get up.

Someone was pulling him, arms wrapping around him and a head pressing against his chest. Listening to his  racing heart.

It was Draco. Draco holding him and Draco staring after a running Snape. A Snape that was streaking across the Hogwarts grounds, pursued by Buckbeak. An incredibly angry, screeching Buckbeak.

“Well,” Draco’s voice was faint and he was breathing heavily. “I always told you that bird was a demon.”

Harry wanted to laugh. He tried to, but it came out as a sad and breathy exhale. The fire was gone – he was completely empty. His fingers curled into Draco’s arms and he leant against him. He was hollow – completely hollow – and it was an effort to breathe. He couldn’t remember to breathe. He couldn’t think a single thing.

“’Arry! ‘Arry! Yer alrigh’! Yer alrigh’, ain’t yer?” he could hear Hagrid’s voice above him. Felt his big hand on his shoulder, checking him over for damages.

“We’re fine.” Draco’s voice cut through the night. A calm, if incredibly tired voice. “Where’s Theo?”

“Right here,” Nott’s voice drifted to Harry. He couldn’t move – his muscles just weren’t responding. It was just easier to lean into Draco’s shoulder and stare at the dark grass below them. “Fang is too. But we were binding some bowtruckles when it happened and – well – I couldn’t save them. The poor things. The absolute _monsters_ , destroying innocent creatures like that.”

Fang barked his agreement. Then his cold nose snuffled against Harry’s cheek. It brought some feeling back to him. He jerked against Draco – wanting to stand.

Draco helped him, his hand wrapping around Harry’s back as they both struggled to their feet.

“Dumbledore’s dead.” He said. That was the only thing that he knew for sure anymore.

“What?” Hagrid asked.

“Dumbledore’s dead and Snape killed him.”

“You can’t – how do yer know that?”

“I was there.”

“It’s true,” Draco said. “I was too.”

“I saw it,” Harry said.

His head was turned by a gentle hand into Draco’s chest. He stayed there, his glasses pressing into the bridge of his nose. He thought that one of his lenses was cracked, but he couldn’t be sure.

“Well – well, I’m sure there was – Dumbledore probably told ‘im to go with the Death Eaters – keep his cover.” Hagrid was clutching at straws, Harry could tell. “Any – anyway, we need to get the three of yer up to the castle.”

He put a hand on Harry’s shoulder and he stated walking – robotic movements because he had Draco on one side and Hagrid on the other. Nott walked next to Draco, staring at the two of them with wide, terrified eyes.

There was a crowd under the astronomy tower. Harry knew why. He started towards it with his own strength – because it couldn’t – it couldn’t possibly be true.

Dumbledore couldn’t _die_.

“No, _mon ange,_ ” Draco said. He caught Harry with an arm around his shoulders, pulling him away.

“But, Dumbledore-“

“He’s gone. You know that.”

“I have to-“

“Later, darling.”

“Harry – Malfoy-“ Ginny was pushing through the crowd, her hair matted with blood the same colour as it.

“The most sufferable Weasley.”

“To the Hospital Wing. McGonagall’s orders – everyone’s there.” She spoke briefly her hand shaking as she gestured.

Draco nodded and she took Harry’s other hand, pulling them along beside her.

They walked in silence. The school was unbelievably quiet. No one would have been able to tell that a battle had raged on the roof above them just ten minutes ago. Unbelievably quiet but for the sound of Hagrid’s sobs below them. Harry’s heart raced in time to it.

He couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe that Dumbledore was gone.

He didn’t like Dumbledore.

At least, he had thought that he hadn’t. He had thought that he could never forgive him for how much he held back and that he had _ignored_ Harry for so long. That he had been wrong about things and that he had avoided too many questions. That he didn’t listen to Harry and he hadn’t seemed to _care._

But he had. He had cared. He had been trying his best, but he was human and he made mistakes.

Last year had been a mistake. A very human mistake.

Dumbledore was human and Dumbledore could die.

Dumbledore was dead.

And it _hurt_. Despite all of the ignoring and avoiding – Dumbledore had been the one who had made sure Harry got here safe. He had been the one who had _always_ made things better. Even if he arrived late, he was strong and in control and Harry _needed_ him.

He felt bad – he felt _awful_ for hating him like that. He had hated him, but he had never wanted him _gone_. He had never wanted him to _die._ Not really.

But now he was.

Now he was gone.

Harry hadn’t even imagined a world without Dumbledore.

Sirius was standing outside the Hospital Wing. He had been tapping his foot like an impatient dog.

Then he had spotted Harry and Draco coming down the corridor towards him and had pushed off from the wall.

“Harry – Draco – what-“ he sounded relieved, incredibly relieved but also incredibly panicked. “What the hell has happened to the two of you?!”

Harry opened his mouth to say. He opened his mouth to say that Dumbledore had-

Dumbledore had taken them to-

They had gone with Dumbledore-

Dumbledore.

He couldn’t say the name.

Instead, he opened his mouth –

And began to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N): Worth the wait??
> 
> I hope so, because I've accidentally sat in Starbucks for three hours because I could not stop writing - and I used a voucher to get my drink for free so I feel pretty bad about it.
> 
> And I have assignments due.
> 
> But I really got into this and I'm super happy with the way it came out. Everything happens for a reason and honestly I don't think it would have come out like this if I had written it two weeks ago. It definitely wouldn't have  because I would have struggled through the cave scene and this fic really didn't need that. It's been such a fine line of including stuff from the book and that's why I've said to keep a copy to hand because these scenes are iconic. As much as J K Rowling is incredibly problematic, Dumbledore's death is pretty good.
> 
> So leave a like and a comment (PLEASE DON'T SCREAM AT ME, I DON'T APPRECIATE IT) and I will see you when I see you. (I CAN'T GIVE ESTIMATES OF WHEN THE NEXT CHAPTER WILL BE RIGHT NOW.)
> 
> Thank you ever so ever so much for all of yours' incredible patience whilst waiting for this update. I cannot thank you enough for sticking by me. xx


	18. 18

18

The Dark Mark had been set up in preparation. No one else was dead. It was just Dumbledore.

No matter how many times Harry ran the words through his head, he could not believe them. He was sure there would be more bad news – more of the feeling of skidding down the stairs.

Of course, there was more bad news. There were injuries and fears that Snape would expose all of the Order’s secrets to Voldemort. It was unlikely that Grimmauld Place would be safe anymore. Harry hadn’t asked what that would mean for him and Draco over the Summer. He couldn’t think forward to the Summer – he could barely stay in the present.

Bill had been attacked. That was the word everyone kept using. Attacked. Not bitten. Fenrir Greyback hadn’t been a werewolf when it had happened and no one quite knew what this would mean.

But he was taking it well, Harry supposed. Bill had given a lopsided smile, his face half covered in bandages. “Well, I was beginning to feel left out. Everyone else was going through the trauma of being a werewolf – now I can have it for myself.”

“You’re not going to be a werewolf. You _won’t_.” Mrs Weasley kept saying.

Ron had glanced at Draco then. He spoke loudly, not breaking eye contact, as he added, “but it wouldn’t be the end of the world if you were, Bill. It wouldn’t matter.”

Draco had almost smiled at Ron then.

Almost.

Harry took Draco’s hand without thinking, their fingers interlocking easily. It was as if they had done it so often that their hands had been worn down to fit perfectly, like stones being washed smooth in the tide. He pulled him to one side, away from the crowd of jittery, emotional people and Draco followed automatically. He was watching Harry’s face, but there was still a distant look on his face, as if he wasn’t really _there_.

“Are you okay?” Harry asked. It seemed such a stupid question – it seemed such a small and ordinary question for everything that had happened.

“I could ask you the same.” Draco said, his lips twitching again. Like the normal Draco was trapped inside and fighting to come out. Something was missing from his voice – some amount of snark.

“I asked you first.”

“I asked you second.”

Harry wasn’t. He really wasn’t okay. He knew Draco knew that – he had been standing right next to him in the hallway when he had broken down into loud sobbing in Sirius’ arms. A child’s sobs. A child’s _howls_.

But one of them had to be okay. One of them had to pull it together – and Harry was done with not having it together.

“Draco, I wasn’t the one who had to face-“ Harry stopped himself. He wasn’t even sure how to phrase it.

“You were under the cruciatus curse. I saw.”

“So were you.”

“Harry, I don’t want to talk about it.” Draco sounded tired. Harry could feel that tiredness in his own bones.

“Fine, then. Don’t talk about it.” Harry said. “But I’m not leaving until I know that you’re okay.”

Draco looked at him, then. Something switched on behind his eyes and he really _looked_ at Harry. Then he pressed a trembling hand against Harry’s cheek, his fingers tangling themselves in dark curls.

“Then you might have to stay with me forever.”

Harry could have laughed. He pressed a hand over Draco’s.

“My worst nightmare.”

That smile flickered again and for a crazy moment Harry believed that it might all be okay. That they would go back to normal. It would all just be more repressed memories to come out another day.

But then Draco sat – fell – onto the hospital bed behind them. He wasn’t looking at Harry, unkempt hair falling over his pale face. Dirty hair – Harry realised – streaked with dirt and blood. He had only seen Draco’s hair like that once, and that had been the previous Summer, when Draco had stumbled through the front door and ten minutes later Harry discovered he was a werewolf.

Repressed memories. It made him freeze for a moment.

He had been screamed at then. He had been told to get out and had been dragged away by Sirius.

But now Draco reached out a hand to him and he stepped forward obediently, not able to feel his legs. As Draco curled his fingers into Harry’s shirt and pulled him closer, he felt as though he was viewing the scene from far away.

After a moment, his hand went to Draco’s hair. He combed through the tangles with his fingers, watched Draco’s shoulders shake and felt his heart cracking. Harry kept his mouth shut, for once, and just waited. He waited for Draco’s hands to stop trembling and for him to catch the breath that was evading him.

Dimly, he realised that there was a song in the back of his mind. A repressed memory, but a good one this time – a half-smiling Draco looking at him with twinkling eyes as he hummed.

So, Harry hummed. As quietly as he could, because he didn’t want anyone else to hear. He wasn’t a good hummer and this was private. This was between Draco and him.

The sound made its way to Draco’s consciousness. His hands tightened their grip on Harry.

“I miss my mum,” he whispered.

“I do too.”

Draco took a breath that rattled his entire frame. Then he was pushing his hair back off of his face and looking up at Harry. He took another breath, then pulled himself to his feet. They were standing close – so close that their hips were pressed against each other’s.

“Did you see the way Theo hugged Weasley when we came in,” he murmured in Harry’s ear. Harry went to turn and got tugged back around. “Don’t look now, stupid.”

“You know, I love your nicknames for me. Stupid makes me feel much more loved than honey ever will.” His voice was still shaking, but it was easier to focus on being funny than on the corpse that lay outside the castle.

“I’ve always called you stupid, Potter. I’m not about to stop now that I’m kissing you.”

“So Nott hugged Ron,” Harry said. “So what?”

“No, this wasn’t a _hug_. This was a ‘my world was crashing down and you’re the only thing left in it,’ hug.”

“Ron’s not gay.”

“He only _says_ that.”

Harry went to laugh, but instead his head fell against Draco’s shoulder. He stayed there. The sensation had made him think about falling.

Falling.

A falling figure.

A falling figure with robes and hair swirling around him and it should have been more graceful.

It should have ended with the figure rising back up and pointing a wand at Snape.

Dumbledore was dead.

Draco had a hand on the small of Harry’s back.

“How do you deal with it?” that was Ron’s voice.

“With great difficulty.” Draco was talking, his thumb rubbing circles on Harry’s back. “It’s easier with a great boyfriend and wolfsbane potion, of course.”

“Of course,” Ron replied. “I don’t know – the ingredients for wolfsbane…”

“They’re a small fortune, yes.”

“Fleur has money.” There was a pause. “Having a good girlfriend is the same as a boyfriend, right?”

“Oh, it’s completely different. Heterosexuality just doesn’t have the same bond, you know?”

“Not really,” Ron said.

The conversation was surreal. It was so casual, as if Harry wasn’t having an existential crisis on Draco’s shoulder. As if it wasn’t about lycanthropy, but just picking up groceries. Maybe that was just what it had come to.

At least it gave Harry the confidence to pull away from Draco and attempt a smile at Ron.

“You alright, mate?” he managed to ask. His voice still had a quiver to it, but Ron didn’t point it out. Ron was like that.

“Thanks to you. That Liquid Luck, Harry – it – it was the turning point.” Ron’s face was serious. Then suddenly he was hugging Harry – hard – hard enough that he felt his ribs scream in protest. They didn’t hug – that wasn’t a Harry and Ron thing.

But he could learn to like it.

“Anytime,” he murmured.

Hermione was, of course, as panicked as the rest of them. She appeared later – with Luna and Neville in tow and covered in as many bumps and grazes as the rest of them.

“Thank goodness. You’re safe.” Her tone was matter of fact, but she hugged Harry even harder than Ron. There was a lot of hugging. Harry hugged Ginny too. Brave, clever Ginny who smelt of flowers.

Then she had hugged Luna. She had hugged Luna for a long time and Harry could hear her talking under her breath to Ginny. He turned away to give them some privacy.

They were to stay in the Hospital Wing, under Madame Pomfrey’s eagle eyes. It irked him – there was no way that he would be slipping into Draco’s bed and that was what he needed more than Polyjuice potion and hot chocolate. He needed to feel safe and _real_. He needed to know this was the real world and he could only feel that when he was wrapped up in Draco’s arms.

Not that there was much sleeping anyway. He could hear Bill and Fleur talking in low tones on the other side of the room. There was a lot of “I will always love you”s being exchanged and Harry wondered if they knew everyone could hear them. Ginny and Luna were awake too, their shapes pressed against each other in the dark. They weren’t speaking. He could hear Ron, Nott and Hermione playing Wizard’s chess. They were too hyped up to sleep, he knew and it was a lot easier to concentrate on than reality. It was a relaxing sound, their hushed voices – like being back in the Common Room on a Sunday evening and struggling to stay awake.

Draco had been in the bed next to him, but within an hour, he had murmured something to Lupin and they had both left. Lupin had had a hand on Draco’s shoulder gripping him tightly.

Which left Sirius sat at the end of his bed like a faithful dog. He had been sat with his head resting on his chin, looking at the door like he was waiting for Lupin to return.

“Why were you away from the castle?” he asked, eventually. Probably when he realised that Harry was still sat bolt upright and was not about to settle down any time soon.

Dumbledore had told him not to say. He had been told to keep it a secret.

But what did it matter? He was gone and Harry didn’t know who else to turn to. Surely they needed as many people as possible to know – to be out there looking for the other horcruxes.

“He took us with him – where he had been disappearing off to all year,” Harry said. “To find the pieces of Voldemort’s soul.”

“Oh, of course – two teenagers are the perfect candidates for such a mission.”

“I have to face Voldemort at some point,” Harry said. It wasn’t really an argument in his defence.

“That doesn’t give him the right to put you in danger without needing to.”

“I would have been in danger here.”

“I would have been here. I would have kept you safe.”

“I know.”

Sirius looked at Harry, the moon making his eyes shine.

“Harry.” His voice was choked with emotion. “You know you’re everything to me.”

Harry could feel his heart in his chest. It hurt. This hurt.

“Sirius.” He wanted to tell him to stop. He didn’t want to hear this. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t want to hear.

“You’re all we have left of James and Lily and I see them in you – when you came down that corridor – fuck, I thought you were James for a moment. But you – you’re both of them. The best of both of them.” Sirius ran his hands through his hair – taking a deep breath. Harry just sat there, watching. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling. “You’re all _I_ have left. I couldn’t – I don’t think I would have made it through Azkaban if I didn’t know you were out here.”

“There was Lupin,” Harry murmured. He wasn’t – he wasn’t that important, he wanted to say. He had done nothing to deserve this.

“Lupin thought I was a murderer,” Sirius said. “And it was safer to stay away from him. What we have – Harry, when I was at school it was still considered an illness. I didn’t even know – I thought it was still that way when I was in Azkaban. Nobody told me there was nothing wrong with me. It was best if we didn’t get tangled up in each other again.”

Harry stayed silent.

“I’ll protect you, Harry Potter, even if it costs me my life.”

“Lupin wouldn’t want that.” Harry said. “I don’t want that, Sirius. I don’t want anyone to die for me.”

“Oh, love.” Harry could hear Sirius’ heart breaking as he said it. “That’s not up to you.” He moved closer to Harry and held out his arms.

Harry hadn’t realised that he was shaking. His entire body was shaking out of his control. He shuffled into Sirius’ arms and buried his head in his jacket. It was the leather one and it still stunk of sweat and adrenaline and the mouldy smell of Grimmauld Place. Harry loved that smell.

“I’m going to keep you safe,” Sirius said. His arms were tight and comforting. Like a dad’s. Harry wondered if this was what it felt like to have a dad and he had never wished for his own more in his life. “I promise I’m going to keep you safe.”

*

“I honestly don’t know why you bother studying for exams,” Ron said to Hermione. “I can count the amount of times they haven’t been cancelled on one hand.”

Hermione ignored him.

It was two days after everything had happened and they were sat in the courtyard. Hermione had books laid out in front of her, though the news had been announced that their exams had been cancelled the previous day.

Harry thought he understood. Hermione was revising for the same reason that he was playing with the hair on the nape of Draco’s neck so intently. It was easier than looking up at the astronomy tower.

Draco was staring at the locket. They had opened it to find a letter from ‘R.A.B.’

Everything had been in vain.

“That tickles, Potter,” Draco murmured, but he didn’t raise a hand to stop Harry.

“Shut up, Malfoy.”

“Someone won’t be let into the Common Room tonight,” Draco said.

Blaise Zabini had disappeared with Snape and hadn’t returned. The next day, Crabbe and Goyle had disappeared too. No one had mentioned it.

But it meant that Nott and Draco had the Common Room all to themselves. After a multiple promises that the Dungeons were _not_ freezing cold and there was no dripping from the ceiling, Harry had snuck down.

It wasn’t as comfortable as the beds the Room of Requirement had supplied, but it was better than sleeping alone.

That was how all of their conversations had been. As teasing and casual as they had been before. No mention of Draco pushing furiously at Harry until he fell out of bed and landed on the floor – only realising who it was when Harry cried out. There was no mention of Harry waking up yelling Dumbledore’s name, yelling Snape’s name, yelling Draco’s name.

Those things happened at night. They were left behind when the sun rose.

At least, Harry supposed, one good had come of it all. Ginny and Luna had reached some sort of understanding. They were sat together at the far end of the courtyard. Somehow, Luna had cajoled a thestral to stand with them and she was talking to Ginny as she pet its bony nose.

They were using muffliato. Ginny had told him the previous day.

“I’m not as brave as I thought,” she had said to Harry. “With all of this happening, it’s just not safe to be open about it.”

Harry had replied, “just being you is more than brave.”

People were ignoring him and Draco now. Completely ignoring them. No doubt hoping that they wouldn’t be returning to Hogwarts anytime soon. They were staying for Dumbledore’s funeral, then leaving for the Summer. Harry didn’t know if they would be back in September. The news had come through that Severus Snape was set to be headmaster.

But he also didn’t know where else they would go.

He blinked and pulled himself back into the present as Nott joined them, cradling a bowtruckle whose leg was still in a splint. It glared at them all with beady eyes, clutching at the front of Nott’s shirt with twiggy fingers.

“We found a survivor,” he said, grinning. He seemed to be the only one who could grin anymore and it was such a charming grin that it made Harry scowl. The boy was too perfect for his own good. “Hagrid’s over the moon!”

“Oaf,” Draco muttered under his breath.

“Well, now I don’t want to be let into the Common Room this evening,” Harry said. He flicked Draco’s cheek.

Draco caught his wrist without glancing at him.

“You already have two dads, trouble, adding another into the mix is just greedy.”

“Well, you steal my dads from me.”

Nott laughed at them, sitting the Bowtruckle down as if it was a child, then  “How’s your brother, Weasley?”

“He’s developed a taste for raw steak,” Ron said. “But that seems to be it. Apart from the scars, of course.”

Harry’s eyes flickered to Draco’s forearm automatically. Two crescent moons. Draco’s eyes – the colour of moon’s – met his for a moment. He dropped Harry’s hand and tugged at the cuff of his sleeve.

“But he’s still with that pretty, French girl, right?”

“Yeah, they’re getting married in the Summer.”

“Cool,” Nott said. “I still have you all to myself then.”

Ron’s face went bright red and he stammered something unintelligible. It made Harry laugh louder than was probably necessary. He needed to laugh, though. He missed laughing.

“A wedding,” Draco said, and he took Harry’s hand again running his mouth over Harry’s knuckles. “That means you’ll be forced to dance with me again, Potter.”

“Who said you were even invited?”

“You’ll be invited and I’ll be your plus one.”

“Maybe I won’t _take_ a plus one.”

“I’ll have to gate crash, then.”

They had started to lean forward, but Harry hadn’t realised how close they were until Draco kissed him. It made his heart flutter as much as the first time.

“Neither of you will be coming if you don’t stop kissing in front of me.” Ron said.

“And what about you and Lavender Brown?” Hermione did not look up from her textbook.

“Well I only really went along with that because she wanted to.” Ron scratched his ear. “I wasn’t really thinking of kissing her, if I’m honest.”

The wind caught the page of Hermione’s book but she didn’t glance down at it. She was staring at Ron.

“Who were you thinking of kissing?” she asked.

Ron's face was beetroot red.

Harry noticed that Nott had glanced up from the bowtruckle and was also looking at Ron intently.

"Dunno," Ron managed to mumble after a moment.

Part of Harry thought this was a particularly poor diversion tactic. He was sure that there was something more here that he wasn't seeing.

But another part of him just found it strange. As the whole week had been strange, it was easy to brush away.

It wasn't easy to brush away the nightmares.

*

Harry woke in a cold sweat after a dream that he was falling. He was falling and his robes were billowing around him.

It was one of the better nightmares.

At least he didn’t wake up screaming. Usually his nightmares involved screaming – Draco screaming – him screaming because he couldn’t move – couldn’t think. There was just pain.

Draco turned over as soon as Harry sat up, pushing his fringe off of his face and gasping for air. Falling. Snape’s face above him.

“Potter – Harry – I’m here,” Draco was murmuring.

Harry nodded.

Moments later Draco’s wand was casting a soft orb of light around them and he was shuffling so that he was in front of Harry. He wasn’t wearing his glasses – he didn’t want to. When the world was blurry like this he was sure that it was real.

“You’re here.” Draco said, taking Harry’s hands. Pale skin merged with tan. He could still hear his breath in his ears – rushing breath like the sound of a stormy sea. “You’re here.”

He nodded again, tightening his fingers around Draco’s until it hurt. Draco was a lifeline – Draco was real because Draco was holding him and Harry could rest his forehead against his shoulder. Draco was real. And that meant that Harry was here.

Harry was here.

He wasn’t flying from the astronomy tower. He was in the Slytherin Common Room. And Draco was right in front of him. His arms were around Harry, his thumbs rubbing circles on Harry’s back.

“He’s dead,” Harry whispered.

“I know,” Draco said. “But you’re not. You’re not dead.”

“You’re not dead.”

“I’m right here.”

“Here.”

“I’m not dead either.” Draco’s hands fumbled and found purchase either side of Harry’s face. He held him close enough that Harry could see his grey eyes in focus.

“Draco.” Harry took a breath. “But you were in so much pain.”

“Pain fades.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Draco’s thumbs traced Harry’s cheekbones. His voice was still a whisper but it sounded like a shout in the quiet.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Draco said.

“I couldn’t do anything.”

“You couldn’t. That doesn’t mean that you wouldn’t.”

“I can’t ever do anything – last year-”

“The whole order didn’t change things last year.”

“But _I’m_ the chosen one!”

Draco pressed his forehead against Harry’s, his hands burying themselves in dark curls.

“Anyone can destroy the horcruxes and once they’re gone he’s just a man. He’s just a man, _mon ange._ ”

Something in him couldn’t quite believe that. He didn’t put much faith in Trelawny’s prophecies generally, but the fact that it had been built up so much last year worried him. The fact that Dumbledore trusted it worried him. He believed that.

Dumbledore may have twisted a lot of truths, but he wouldn’t believe something that was wrong.

He wouldn’t.

And yet he had trusted Snape.

He had trusted Snape and Snape had killed him.

So maybe Dumbledore didn’t know everything.

If he was wrong about one thing, he could be wrong about more things.

And Harry hoped Draco was right. He really hoped that he would be right about it. That Voldemort really was just a man and someone else could do it.

He was sixteen.

Sixteen was too young to save the world. He needed an adult to do it. Adults hadn’t ever dealt with anything. They hadn’t even dealt with the philosopher’s stone. He had been eleven.

Eleven and ready to die because someone couldn’t have taken him to one side to explain what was happening.

Dumbledore had never been very good at explaining things.

Harry leant back against Draco, wrapping his arms around him tightly and staring down at the white sheets under them.

“I hope he is,” he whispered.

“You don’t trust me?”

“No,” Harry found himself smiling. He pulled away so that Draco could see – even though it was an effort, he was smiling. “After all those years of you popping out and trying to murder me?”

“I would never let you get murdered,” Draco said. He rubbed his nose against Harry’s in an eskimo kiss. “Maybe injured or embarrassed – but not murdered.”

Harry sighed, “It’s been a long year and a half, huh?”

“Yeah.”

Their lips were together – Harry wasn’t sure who moved first, but they were kissing.

“Well, then,” Draco continued. “Here’s to another long year and a half. And a lot more.”

It was just another thing that Harry hoped that Draco was right about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N): This chapter is a little shorter than usual because I'm coming to the end and I thought I could drag it out for another chapter...but I was also trying to write whilst watching the Princess Bride and I can't quote it word for word AND write, you know? As it was already a day late, I thought I'd just finish it up and call it a day.
> 
> So I hope you enjoyed - we all know I love writing hurt/comfort! Leave a comment and thank you for keeping up with this!! x


	19. 19

19

What happened now?

Dumbledore was in a white coffin, the grounds were full of people weeping. Harry wasn’t weeping, Harry felt completely numb. His hand was sat on his knee, Draco’s pale one over it. Glancing across at him, Harry thought that he looked bored. Bored and a little nervous.

What happened now?

This was hardly the end of term feast everyone had been looking forward to. This was watching the merpeople come up to the surface of the lake and seeing Hagrid cry. This was seeing Dumbledore’s body burst into flames and feeling guilty for thinking that was so typical of Dumbledore. He couldn’t just _go._ He had to go with a shock and surprise.

But what happened now?

The thought kept stirring around Harry’s head periodically. Every five minutes his brain asked him that. He still didn’t have an answer.

Ginny was sat on his other side. She hadn’t cried – neither her or Luna had. Hermione’s face was buried in her hands and her bushy hair was hiding her from view. Harry noticed that Ron had an awkward arm around her shoulders. His own face was screwed up tightly against the sunlight.

Cornelius Fudge was here – looking miserable. Rufus Scrimgeour too, his eyes kept trailing over to examine Harry’s face. He ignored him, gritting his jaw and looking straight ahead.

What happened now?

At the end of the funeral, Draco tilted his head towards Harry to whisper in his ear, “Rita Skeeter’s on the prowl.”

Harry glanced around, spotting her blonde ringlets and lime green suit in the crowd instantly. He grimaced as he spotted her quick notes quill floating in the air beside her.

“Don’t tell me she’s been staring too,” Harry murmured.

“Oh, of course.”

As if she could hear the two of them, Rita turned and met Harry’s gaze. She was unflinching, her eyes examining how close Draco was to him. And examining the smirk emerging on Draco’s face.

“Well, trouble – do you want to make it official?” Draco asked.

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

He lifted their joined hands so that Rita could see them and found himself grinning – _genuinely_ grinning at the expression on her face. Draco laughed aloud beside him.

But what happened now?

Harry couldn’t think about the consequences of letting the Daily Prophet know that he was together with Draco – he didn’t care about that. He had no idea where he would be for the summer. He had no idea whether he was going to be back at Hogwarts.

Sirius – in dog form – and Lupin had sat a couple of rows behind them and they stood now, the questions on Harry’s tongue – when Scrimgeour stepped in front of him.

“Harry,” he said. There was an edge to his voice and he squeezed Draco’s hand. “Could I have a word?”

“Dumbledore said something similar in our first year, do you remember?” Harry said to Draco. “He said, and now a few words – and just said random things.”

“Yes, that was his sense of humour.” Draco’s tone oozed with sarcasm and he rolled his eyes.

“I know, it must be a-“ Scrimgeour paused, as if he was trying to find the right word. “Devastating loss for you. I think you were his favourite student, you know-“

“Oh, we know. Everybody knew.” Draco said. Harry saw Scrimgeour’s eyelid twitch at the interruption and despite the anxiety gnawing at his chest and the heavy feeling in his chest, he smiled. This was just like it had been last year. When Harry and Draco had danced around teachers with their words.

It was always them against the teachers. That had been Draco’s reasoning for helping Harry out. It was just meant to be the one time. Harry was glad that it had gotten out of control.

“And I know it is not the most appropriate time to ask.” He was still trying, the poor man. It was almost comical, because Sirius and Lupin had evidently sensed danger and were fighting their way through the crowd towards them. The grimm was coming up behind Scrimgeour and he didn’t even know it. “But I need to know if you’ve given any thought to the proposition I gave you at Christmas.”

It was ironic – Scrimgeour was the only one treating Harry like an adult – talking to him like an adult. He hated it.

“I’m not going to be the ministry’s poster boy.” Harry said.

“Right. Dumbledore’s man.”

“Not quite.” Harry’s mouth flickered into a smile.

“Harry.” Lupin was there, stepping around Scrimgeour and putting a hand on Harry’s shoulder, his other buried in Sirius’ shaggy fur. “Are you alright?”

Harry nodded. He wanted to open his mouth and say that he was just having a couple of words with the Minister. Instead, what came out was, “I want to go home now.”

He sounded like a child and he hated it.

But Lupin nodded, tightening a hand on his shoulder and trying to smile. He glanced at Scrimgeour as he said, “sure. If you’ll excuse us?”

A range of emotions flashed in Scrimgeour’s dark eyes. But it was a public place, and people were looking at Harry and Draco as if Rita Skeeter’s article had already been written.

“Of course,” the Minister of Magic said, stepping aside to let them through.

Sirius growled at him and Harry pretended to frown instead of smile. “No, Grimm. Bad.”

So Sirius growled at him too and Draco laughed. People stared at him.

“Harry, when you say home,” Lupin said. He was still next to him, still holding onto the scruff of dog Sirius’ neck. He didn’t have a collar – the idea was just a bit too strange. “We need to have a talk about that.”

“I know. Grimmauld Place isn’t safe anymore.”

“It hasn’t even been that safe this year.”

“We could stay at mine,” Draco said. “It’s not like my parents are there and no one would expect us to be so bold.”

“Lucius Malfoy has probably given Voldemort permission to use it as a base.” Lupin shook his head, running a hand through hair that looked almost grey in the bright sun. “No – no, I’ve had a chat with Sirius and we – we’re thinking of using my house. Well – well, it’s more of a flat, really. But it’s far away from other wizarding communities, but – well, I’m afraid it’s going to be a bit of a squash.”

“Well, that’s it, then.” Draco sighed and rolled his eyes. “We can’t go there – I can’t possibly share a bed with Potter.”

A smile flickered across Lupin’s face. “Try _sofa_ bed.”

That did make Draco grimace. Harry, on the other hand, just laughed. “Well it beats the cupboard under the stairs.”

“That’s the other thing.” They were halfway across the grounds by now, and Harry desperately hoped they would be allowed to apparate at the gates. “It won’t be for very long.”

Even though sweat had been trickling down the collar of his neck all day, Harry felt as though he had been doused in ice.

“What do you mean?”

“Only until your birthday, Harry.” Lupin’s voice was quiet. “Then you’ll be staying at the Burrow. Mrs Weasley insisted.”

“Dumbledore insisted I stay at the Dursleys.” Harry stopped short, staring at Lupin. “But I stayed with you last year.”

“That was different-“

“And I’m not going anywhere without Draco.”

“Draco can stay at the Burrow too.”

Harry looked to Draco. He stayed silent, his hand on his mouth as he stared at the grass, seemingly lost in thought.

“You used to stay at the Burrow.” Lupin was frowning. “You used to stay there a lot.”

That was different. That had been when Ron and Hermione had been his whole world. It had been before Mr Weasley died.

“I want to stay with you. You and Sirius.” Harry said. He glanced down at those two dark eyes half buried by matted fur. “You’re my family.”

“I’m not, Harry.”

“You’re my Godfather’s boyfriend.”

“Harry!” Lupin glanced around, then sighed. “We’ll talk about this later.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Harry said to Lupin’s back. He followed him across the grounds like a child in disgrace. “Sirius will be on my side.”

“Sirius will sleep outside if he is.”

*

There were a lot of arguments. There were arguments about staying at the Burrow. It made Harry feel like a brat – that he was sticking his feet in the ground on this point. He had never been this way and he wasn’t sure what had happened to make him like it now.

But he had family. He had family and he didn’t want to lose them.

And he knew Sirius wanted him around too. He could see it on his face. It would have been fine if there hadn’t been that sadness behind Sirius’ eyes. How could he leave him?

There were arguments about him going back to Hogwarts.

“You have to get your NEWTs, Harry.” That was Sirius’ stance.

"What's the point in getting my NEWTs if we're all killed?"

"How will you get a job when you go to heaven?"

"Sirius."

"I am."

"Snape will be headmaster," Harry said, finally, when they were having the argument for the fifth time, sat either side of Lupin's wobbly wooden table. "What do you think that will mean for me and Draco? What kind of people do you think he'd hire."

Sirius paused then. "You survived Umbridge."

"Oh, you're right. I forgot - and I must not tell lies, after all," Harry said. He clenched his fist on the table and saw Sirius glance at the white scars.

"Harry," he took a breath, tapped his fingers on the table. "If you weren't at Hogwarts, then what would you do? You wouldn't be able to stay here the whole year."

"Why not?"

"Because everyone in the wizarding world is looking for you. No one can be trusted, do you understand? No one. Anyone could be a spy. Anyone could be tortured for information on you. The world isn’t safe.”

“You say that like there was a time when the it was safe-“

“And you can’t stay in one place for too long. It’ll be easier for them to find you.”

“So I’ll just stay at Hogwarts all year round?” Harry snapped. “With known Death Eaters?”

“Snape was on Dumbledore’s side.” Lupin’s voice came from behind them. He was leaning on the battered doorframe, his hair lank over his face. It was almost the full moon.

“How can you still believe that? After all he’s done?” Harry’s voice was hoarse.

“I have to take his side, Moony. Snivellus has gone too far with this charade.”

“So how can you say that I have to go back to Hogwarts when _he’s_ there?!” Harry rounded back on Sirius. It was easy to be angry, lately.

“Because McGonagall will be there. That woman didn’t let us die when we were animagi, she wouldn’t let you die.”  Sirius said evenly.

“She was there the night he died!”

“Be reasonable, Harry. Where else would you go?”

“To hunt the horcruxes,” Harry said.

“No.” Sirius and Lupin said it at the same time.

“If you hadn’t gone on that fool’s errand with Dumbledore, perhaps he wouldn’t have been…” Lupin paused as he considered the word. “Like he was that night.”

“Destroying them is the only way to win,” Harry said. His voice was rising now.

“Let the Order deal with it-“

“Every time the order deals with something, someone dies!” Harry yelled. He slammed on the table  because his voice hadn’t been loud enough to fill the space, then pushed past Lupin at the door and slammed the door to the spare bedroom.

It was more of a cupboard really, but Harry was used to sleeping in cupboards. His and Draco’s stuff was piled around and on the lumpy sofa bed, leaving no room to walk around. They had to climb through everything to get anywhere.

The ceiling was so damp that Harry watched mould spread across it as he lay there, fuming. He hated this. This was what it always was. People deciding where Harry should go and what Harry should do. People deciding what was best for him. People not listening to him. No one ever listened, so he shouted. Shouting made people listen even less.

The flat was small enough for Harry to hear every word even when he wasn’t in the room.

“Well, that was handled nicely, Padfoot.” Lupin said, dryly.

“Yeah, because _you_ were so helpful.”

Harry huffed at the ceiling.

But then he heard Draco’s voice. He had been sat in the living room and Harry now realised that he had seen him storm through the house like a petulant child.

“If we go back to Hogwarts,” Draco said, quietly. “We’ll be killed.”

Silence followed his statement. Harry could feel his heart pounding in his chest.

Draco continued, “It was bad enough this year. And it’s only going to get worse.”

Another long silence dragged out.

“What would your mother say?” Lupin asked quietly. There was a touch of guilt to his voice, Harry noticed.

“She wouldn’t be happy about it.” Draco was completely calm. “But hopefully she would realise that my life is worth more than my education.”

“We can’t just let the two of you – just wander around by yourselves looking for these bloody horcruxes.” Sirius said. Harry could imagine his hand running through his hair as he said it.

“Then that’s not what we’ll do. We’ll leave – I was thinking Paris.”

“This isn’t a joke, Draco.”

“I’m not joking. It’s out of the country and it’s where my mother would go. It’s where she might be.” There was a vulnerability to Draco’s voice now. A desperation. “I’ll figure out the details later. Right now, though, I can convince Potter to go to the burrow.”

“Really?” Sirius didn’t sound convinced.

“Do you really doubt me?”

Harry hated how smug Draco sounded. He pulled a textbook out of his back and faced the wall, pretending to read it. He could hear tea being made and a conversation carrying on like normal. It was ridiculously hard to concentrate on potions when he was clearly in the doghouse. When every line reminded him of the Half-Blood Prince and Snape and the fact that he wasn’t going back to Hogwarts. He was never going back to Hogwarts.

When had that stopped becoming a soul-crushing thought?

What was he going to tell Ron, Hermione and Ginny? He couldn’t do it in a letter. They’d all individually kill him. But he couldn’t do it face to face. He didn’t have the heart to look them in the eyes and tell them he was running away.

That’s what it felt like. It felt like he and Draco were running away. If they were at least hunting horcruxes, then he could say they were doing something important. That they were fighting in the war and helping to win it. Going away to France felt like running. Running was not what Slytherins did. It was not what Harry Potter did. Harry Potter always stayed to fight. No matter what. He was the last line of defence. He was the first line of defence in most cases. He had let that slip two years ago when Voldemort had returned and he was not about to make the same mistake again. The wizarding world wouldn’t survive if he made the same mistake again.

No, he wasn’t just about to run away and go to France.

The thought ran through his head as he stewed there. He had to find the horcruxes and finish what Dumbledore had started. If it wasn’t Harry, then who was going to do it?

The door to the cupboard squeaked a while later. Harry scowled at the print in front of him, but it was only blurred. It only just occurred to him that he hadn’t taken a single word of it in. Underneath him, the sofa bucked and kicked as Draco climbed onto it, but he remained stock-still.

“Good read, Potter?” he murmured in a low voice. His mouth buried itself under Harry’s curls and pressed against his neck.

“The best,” Harry replied.

Draco’s teeth traced up the sensitive skin on his neck and he could feel his hot breath against his ear. He clenched his jaw and Draco placed an open mouthed kiss against it. His tongue flickered out, giving a sharp lick down his jawbone.

“You’re trying to convince me to go to the Burrow.” Harry said, as Draco slipped a hand underneath his shirt. His fingers were cold against his skin and he clenched his stomach.

“You heard that, huh?” Draco murmured, his lips only just touching Harry’s skin.

“I’ve gotten really good at occlumency.”

Draco gave a breathy chuckle that made Harry’s stomach flip. His jaw and stomach may have been clenched, but the potions book was tugged from his hands with little resistance. Draco dropped it down the back of the sofa without any ceremony, instead turning Harry’s shoulder so that he was looking up into stormy grey eyes. The hand under his t-shirt slid up, resting just below his ribs so that he felt it move with him as he breathed.

“When did you get so sarcastic?” Draco asked and Harry smiled.

“Since always,” he replied. He pushed Draco’s hair back, because it was easy to forget that he was angry at him when his heart was pounding and his cheeks felt warm. It was easy to forget that he was mad when Draco was talking such a soft tone of voice. “Don’t worry, you haven’t been a bad influence on me, Mr Malfoy.”

Draco's breath hitched and he hooked his leg over Harry's waist. His fingers splayed out on his back like a flower opening and he shuddered.

"No," he said. "You've been a good influence on me." He paused, looking over Harry's face with half-lidded eyes. "Mr Potter."

Harry understood why Draco had paused a moment – hearing ‘Mr Potter’ – come from him made his stomach leap into his mouth. He let his hand slide down the side of Draco’s face, so that his thumb could trace the outline of Draco’s mouth.

“And you’re not a good enough influence to get me to go to the Burrow,” Harry said.

Draco hummed. His other hand was on the back of Harry’s neck, his thumb rubbing circles at his hairline.

“Fine,” he said, his teeth nudging Harry’s thumb. “You can explain to Weasley why you won’t be at his brother’s wedding.”

“Why _we_ won’t be.”

“No. I’m still going. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“No way.”

“Way.” Draco leant down, kissing Harry with an open mouth. He kissed him back, finding it hard to concentrate on the conversation when Draco’s tongue was almost as the back of his throat. He slipped his hands down the back of Draco’s jeans, pulling him closer. Draco pulled back, his mouth still almost flush against Harry’s. “You can stay here though.”

“Fine, I will.”

“I think Nott is going. Maybe I’ll slow dance with him.”

“No, you bloody won’t.” Harry’s eye snapped open just in time to see Draco smirking.

“But _you_ don’t want to go.” Draco said. He ran his tongue over Harry’s bottom lip in a kitten lick.

Harry frowned at him, tugging Draco closer by his rear with enough force to make him gasp. “I’ll go.”

“You said no.”

“You’re not bloody dancing with Theodore bloody Nott.”

Draco chuckled. He kissed Harry, deeply and slowly. There was a sound in the back of his throat that made Harry’s grip on him tighten. He laughed again, leaning his hips into Harry’s and pressing his fingers into his back harder. The contact sent a burst of warmth through the bottom of Harry’s stomach and he pressed back against Draco.

Quickly, Draco’s kisses began to miss Harry’s mouth, peppering themselves down his neck and onto his chest. It was all warm – warm hands on warm skin and warm mouths moving clumsily against each other. Harry wasn’t thinking – he was just letting his body move like it wanted to.

Then he realised that his hips had been thrusting against Draco’s, and that he had been thrusting back. They were short, instinctual movements, but they sent bursts of fire through Harry’s groin.

“Fuck,” he whispered into Draco’s hair. “My Godfathers in the next room over.”

“Your Godfather, my uncle.” Draco replied. He pulled away, let Harry sit up and his shirt slide back down. His pale face was flushed pink and he crossed his legs as he sat. “I think you’d better take a cold shower.”

“Oh, _I_ had better?”

“Yes, trouble.” Draco leant forward and gave him a final chaste kiss, before he pulled him to his feet.

And how could Harry argue with that? He doused himself in the freezing cold water until Draco’s hot breath against his skin was a just a memory. Until the heat inside him had cooled down.

He was accosted at the door of the tiny, mouldy shower room. Draco had one hand on the doorframe, leaning forward to kiss Harry when he was still just wrapped in a towel.

“So, Weasley’s wedding, and then Paris?”

“Bill’s wedding,” Harry replied. “And that’s all the promises I can make.”

*

Paris didn’t seem like such an awful idea. In fact, it sounded like a cliché. A dream. Paris with his boyfriend was an obtainable fantasy. When Harry thought about it, he thought of thick, black coffee outside of tiny cafes, of traipsing around art galleries and stately homes. They didn’t appeal to him, not in any way shape or form, but he knew that would be what Draco would want to do. That his eyes would light up even if he wasn’t grinning from ear to ear.

He was starting to imagine finding a private corner in a gallery and pushing Draco against the wall. He imagined doing it there, but he only had a vague understanding of what exactly would happen. It sounded cool and exciting.

Better than traipsing around England looking for pieces of a Dark Lord’s soul.

But he knew he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if they went to Paris and someone got hurt fighting for them. If Sirius or Lupin died because they were hunting for horcruxes – because Voldemort was torturing them for information – Harry would never forgive himself. He would never forgive Draco, either, and that was a thought he couldn’t stand.

Ginny wrote to him. She told him that she and Luna had thought it best to keep their relationship a secret. There were plenty of places in the Forbidden Forest to go to meet, she said. Luna knew them all. They would be safe there. It was brave enough to just be. Hogwarts wouldn’t be safe for them any longer, she had gone on to explain. Luna’s safety wasn’t worth proving a point. Harry had told her that she had been spending too much time with Luna – that all that wisdom was starting to rub off on her stubbornness.

Hermione wrote as well. She was staying at the Burrow – Harry wondered what she had told her parents – and she desperately wanted Harry to join them. Just for a little while, she had written. Just so they could pretend it was like the old days. Just for a tiny while longer. There was a lot of crossings out at the bottom of the page, which was so un-Hermione-ish Harry wondered if someone else had scribbled on the bottom of her parchment. Especially since she had written ‘I know you have Draco, but if you two weren’t together, don’t you think Ron is just a little bit attractive?’

Harry had no idea what that meant. He suspected Draco would laugh at him if he asked, so he just wrote ‘I guess?’ in response.

Nott was staying there too – Ron had been the one to tell him that. He hadn’t wanted to chance going home – not with his father still skulking about with his wand ready. He was staying at the Burrow until Bill and Fleur’s wedding, then he was off. He had mentioned some distant cousin in America, and he was flying there as soon as possible. He was going all the way on a broom if he needed to, but he wasn’t staying in the UK.

That had annoyed Ron. Harry got the sense that Ron had wanted him to stay and fight.

Why should he? Harry wanted to reply. Why should any of them? He wasn’t even seventeen yet and he didn’t want to have to kill a man.

Seventeen. He was almost seventeen. He didn’t like that. It felt like he was running out of time. Time for what? He wasn’t sure.

He had insisted on having his birthday at Lupins.

“Because I’ve never spent a birthday with you,” he had told Sirius. And begged and pleaded and made every promise under the sun to stay just a little while longer.

So he had gotten his way. They had eaten shop brought cake and watched a video of The Wizard of Oz that skipped every few minutes. When Dorothy was tapping her shoes together at the end and crying “There’s no place like home!” Harry was surprised to find a large lump in his throat. He blinked furiously to hide his damp eyes. What was wrong with him? He never usually cared that much about this film.

This was home, he supposed. His home was with his Godfather, his werewolf-ex-teacher and his ex-Death Eater boyfriend. It didn’t matter if they were in musty old Grimmauld Place, or a leaky, mouldy flat. They were family and home was wherever they were.

And he didn’t want to leave it. He really didn’t want to leave it at all. But he had to, one way or another.

He found Draco’s hand and squeezed it tightly. Draco squeezed back instinctively, then rested his head on Harry’s shoulder.

The boy who lived had to grow up now. There was the decision of Paris or Horcruxes.

And whichever he chose, he had to leave Hogwarts behind.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N): So I have some good news and some bad news and I don't know the best way to do it.  
> I think I'm going to do good news first whilst I've still got your attention:  
> I'm going to be publishing an original novel on Tapastic. I've gotten far enough with my webcomic that I feel like I can juggle both as well as work and uni. It's going to be called 'The Prince and the Alchemist' and my tapastic name is S.I.Turner - I'm putting the first chapter up tomorrow. (And yes, it is a fantasy novel featuring a gay romance.) I'm so genuinely excited to share it with you guys because I started the first draft when I was around 13 and it's come such a wonderfully long way and - ah! I really hope that you give it a chance and continue to support me.  
> So now the bad news - you may have already guessed this was coming:  
> There probably won't be a sequel to Hand in Glove/Still Ill.  
> Not because I don't /want/ to. Here's the thing: I hate Deathly Hallows. I hate their inclusion in the universe, it doesn't feel like it fits - it's just my least favourite Harry Potter novel. So I don't really want to write 100K more rewriting something I don't enjoy that much. I also don't have ideas past the wedding and the aftermath and I don't want to repeat what happened with this fic - where I wasn't 100% happy with the way it was going.  
> These fics are literally as long as Prisoner of Azkaban and that's crazy to me. No offence, my loves, but I'd love to put that many words into my own work.  
> (Someone did mention a prequel from Draco's POV to this and I might drabble with that. I'm more inclined to drabble with that.)  
> (Also I'm sorry that we never got to a sex scene. I did honestly want to try to write one but every time I did, someone on Quotev would remind me that they're all 12 and I couldn't bring myself to put it up knowing that.)  
> Thank you so incredibly absolutely much for all of the kudos, comments, bookmarks and views that both of these fics have gotten. When I started writing this about a year ago, I never thought that I would still be doing it and that I would be this close to all of you and to the series. It's rekindled some of my love for Harry Potter and it has just been a really incredible experience.  
> So, this won't be the last time I say it, I'm sure I'll be responding to comments with it, but-  
> THANK YOU. xx


	20. (A/N)

Sorry if you were expecting another chapter - but it's just me again! 

I just wanted to let everyone know that my original novel, The Prince and the Alchemist is now live on tapastic: <https://tapas.io/series/ThePrinceandtheAlchemist>

Hopefully it will be updating weekly.

I can't wait to see what everyone thinks! xx


End file.
